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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29453595">The Distance Between Us</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoraSonata/pseuds/KoraSonata'>KoraSonata</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hermitcraft, Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Injury, Burns, Drowning, Druid Stress, Everyone is very inconvenienced, Fire, Fluff and Angst, Galactic Language, Gen, Hermitcraft - Freeform, Humour, Impaling, Lullabies, Minecraft, Platonic Cuddling, Scattered AU, Singing, Starvation, Very brief mentions of polytheism, With a small spattering of suffering, but like make it funny, non-permanent death, think minecraft death, werewolf ren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:08:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>43,065</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29453595</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoraSonata/pseuds/KoraSonata</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hermits were given a task. Each person would start at a different spot on the map, and each person could navigate the terrain or build as they wished. There was only one goal: find the others. The rules were simple. Number 1: the Hermits could not communicate through text or chat of any form, but other use of their communicators was fair game. Number 2: Night could only be skipped if all other players were also in bed, but sleeping for the duration of the long night would also eliminate phantoms. And Number 3: they would start from square one. No tools. No armour. No blocks of any kind. But there was just one more little catch to their scenario. Each person would start in the location that was personally the most inconvenient for them. </p><p>OR</p><p>SCATTERED AU??!?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>No Romantic Relationships - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>171</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>308</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. BdoubleO100</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is basically my version of the Scattered AU but without the tears. Also people start in completely different spots but like yeah. Read the original prompts at the links below!<br/>Part 1: https://hermitcraftheadcanons.tumblr.com/post/638327802787250176/this-is-a-collection-of-all-material-associated<br/>Part 2: https://hermitcraftheadcanons.tumblr.com/post/638853979496923136/scattered-au-masterpost-part-2-complete</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Air</em>. He needed <em>air</em>. Bdubs knows he must have spawned under water, because the first thing he notices about his environment is that he can’t <em>breathe</em>.</p><p>This wasn’t necessarily the end of the world. He knew he had approximately 15 seconds to hold his breath before he would start to suffocate, and people spawned underwater all the time. All he had to do was get to the surface before his time ran out.</p><p>He kicks his legs out beneath him, feeling the rush of cold water churn around his body as he attempts to propel himself to the surface.</p><p>Only, he doesn’t get that far.</p><p>He had only gone up a few feet before his head hits something hard above him, and he looks up to see the green prismarine roof above his head. He takes a second to collect himself, doing his best to ignore the burning in his lungs, before surveying his surroundings.</p><p>He was most definitely in an Ocean Monument, if the walls of prismarine were any sort of indicator. This wasn’t particularly the best of news he could have received at that moment. Ocean Monuments were large formations that, as the name suggested, spawned at the bottom of the Ocean. And while they were normally considered a pretty rare and highly sought after construction, at this particular moment, he was rapidly running out of breath. And based off of the shape of the room that he currently occupied, Bdubs assumed that he must have started in the topmost room of the structure.</p><p>Which meant that in order to reach the surface, he was going to have to navigate the entire monument.</p><p>Bdubs clasps a hand over his mouth as a stream of bubbles erupts from his nose. He was out of breath. There was no way he would be able to make his way through the entire monument before he suffocated, and he hadn’t even started looking for the exit yet.</p><p>He had resolved to wait it out. It was fine. He would just die and respawn, and then he would set to work on the navigation. No big deal.</p><p>Only, there was <em>one</em> key feature of an Ocean Monument that he had failed to take into consideration.</p><p>A dark shadow is cast on the wall in front of him. One that was much too large to be his own. And without any breath left in his lungs, he turns just in time to see the large figure of the Elder Guardian looming towards him.</p><p>
  <em>BdoubleO100 drowned. </em>
</p><p>This might have complicated things a bit.</p><p>He respawns seconds later, not wasting any time as he immediately goes straight for the creature. He would need to take it out before he could leave the room, and he needed to get out of there as soon as possible.</p><p>He had forgotten about the existence of Elder Guardians. They were mobs that had never been the easiest to deal with. Their lasers did a fairly significantly large amount of damage, and they themselves had a ridiculously large amount of health. It took several swings to do them in with even the strongest and sharpest of blades, but poor Bdubs didn’t even have a measly wooden sword.</p><p><em>Ow</em>.</p><p>The first strike to the creature leads him to recoil his hand sharply. He had forgotten about their thorns, and god damn that had <em>hurt</em>. He quickly swims across the room to hide behind one of the pillars, hoping to regenerate his health in the meantime.</p><p>He quickly realizes this had been a mistake.</p><p>He only had so much air within his lungs, and each second he spent regenerating health was one second less of air that remained. He had only gotten in a few hits on the Guardian and he was already gasping for breath.</p><p>
  <em>BdoubleO100 drowned whilst trying to escape Elder Guardian. </em>
</p><p>He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. This time when he respawns, he goes straight for the Guardian, hitting it repeatedly. This was no longer a game of the mind. He was going to brute force it for as long as possible, throwing all precautions to the wind, and damn the consequences. He just needed it gone, and he was willing to die as many times as it took for that to occur.</p><p>
  <em>BdoubleO100 was killed by Elder Guardian using Magic. </em>
</p><p>8 hits. The creature had taken exactly 8 hits before it had killed him. And assuming the Guardian retained the damage taken each time, that meant he would have to do the same procedure approximately 4 more times. He cracks his neck.</p><p>
  <em>Alright. I can work with that. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>BdoubleO100 was killed by Elder Guardian using Magic. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>BdoubleO100 was killed by Elder Guardian using Magic. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>BdoubleO100 was killed by Elder Guardian using Magic. </em>
</p><p>He shakes out his wrists. This was the one. This last round was the deciding factor, and how he would proceed depended entirely on the outcome of this match. In theory, he had already damaged the creature before the start of the second match, and so it shouldn’t have taken the full 8 hits. His eyes lock on his target.</p><p><em>Let’s do this</em>.</p><p>
  <em>BdoubleO100 has just earned the achievement <b>[The Deep End]</b>. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>BdoubleO100 has just earned the achievement <b>[Monster Slayer]</b>. </em>
</p><p>Several seconds pass. One second. Three seconds. Five seconds. Ten.</p><p>
  <em>BdoubleO100 drowned.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. ZombieCleo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo wasn’t worried. She wasn’t. She knew the goal, and she knew the rules, and she was confident enough in her own abilities that she was sure that no matter where she ended up, she would be fine. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She had been wrong. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She wasn’t a master of everything, and she had never claimed to be. In fact, aside from the woman’s astounding armour stand magic, she wouldn’t have particularly applied the term “master” to herself at all. Cleo was a wiz with that book. In the past she had created beautiful scenery. Animals, vegetation, architecture, and she could create an entire action sequence in the span of an afternoon, but somehow she doubted that manipulating armour stands would come in handy in this particular instance. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Now, the situation was not to be confused, because she was by no means the worst at things - she just also wasn’t the best. But this didn’t mean that she couldn’t </span> <span class="s2"><em>do</em></span> <span class="s1"> them. She was fine with mining and farming, and was ok at flying, and although she might not have been the best shot at a bow, she could hold her own just fine against the hostile monsters with a blade. The only thing she had never particularly done a lot of was redstone, but even then, she had always been a fast learner, and really she failed to see how a working knowledge of their mechanics would help her survive in this situation anyway. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This had been her thought process going in. Jack of all trades, right? It shouldn’t have mattered where she started. Plains, taiga, desert, ocean. She had enough general knowledge about most everything that she was certain that no matter where she was placed, she could prevail. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She just hadn’t counted on starting in a stone box. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She grumbles to herself as she reluctantly punches out the walls, attempting to create a staircase to the unseeable surface. The process is long and arduous without the use of a tool, and the longer she chips away at the material, the more irritable she becomes. 1 block. 2 blocks. 5 blocks. 8 blocks. By block 10 she was about ready to rip her own hair out, but that is when she finally breaks through to the surface. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“</span> <span class="s2"> <em>Finally</em> </span> <span class="s1">.” She exclaims, quickly striding up the last few steps of stone where she finally stumbles out into the open. </span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s2"> <em>Black</em> </span> <span class="s1">. That is the first thing she sees. An infinite sea of black that stretches on endlessly through the depths of all time and space. And it’s </span> <span class="s2"> <em>cold</em> </span> <span class="s1">. The air feels thick and damp, and it’s not </span> <span class="s2"> <em>quite</em> </span> <span class="s1"> enough that she thinks she’s in danger of freezing to death, but she certainly wouldn’t have described it as a form of comfort. </span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">The End was probably not a good place to start. In fact, she was sure it was one of the worst. There was no wood, without which she couldn’t make the tools in order to get the stone. And that was </span> <span class="s2">all</span> <span class="s1"> there was here. </span> <span class="s2"><em>Stone</em></span> <span class="s1">. No dirt, no gravel, no sand, nothing she could build with. There was just floating islands of pure endstone, which she couldn’t collect without a pickaxe, a thousand or so enderman, which dropped nothing but ender pearls that were all but useless to her, and a sea of endless void. The main end zone didn’t even have chorus plants like the outer islands, meaning there wasn’t even any food she could eat. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Evidently, the End sucks. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She looks towards the ground as she moves across the stone beneath her feet, trying to avoid angering the other occupants as she strides towards the obsidian pillars near the centre. She just had to get to the portal. All she had to do was go through the portal and she would be back in the Overworld, then she could get the tools she needed so that she could find the others. She just had to get to the portal. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Only, it’s not there. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She walks into the centre to see an empty basin - It hadn’t been activated yet. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And that’s when she hears it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A sound like a demon hybrid of a screech and a growl pierces her ears. She looks back, only now noticing the bright purple crystals bouncing threateningly atop each black pillar of obsidian. She glances towards the empty basin, then back at the crystals, and then back to the basin. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Another screech interrupts her thoughts, louder this time. And stuck there empty handed, without so much as a single block to her name, Cleo turns just in time to see the dark form of the dragon looming over her. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I honestly felt like this would be a bad starting spot for anyone but Cleo got it only because I felt it would probably annoy her the most 😅</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Xisuma</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The rules were simple enough. Find the others. There was nothing overly complex about that notion. All they had to do was find each other. Even within the parameters of the game, he wasn’t overly concerned. Xisuma was a good general all-rounder type. He was excellent with almost all forms of technical contraptions, he was well known for his construction of community farms, his building skills were more than subpar, and he was just generally good at problem solving. Not to mention that he was also the designated master of code and really just had a large plethora of knowledge in general. In the grande scheme of things, he should have been relatively prepared for most situations in which he would find himself. Xisuma was set.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2"> <em>This</em> </span> <span class="s1">, however, felt like a little bit of a cop-out.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh come on, now.” He mutters to himself under his breath - not that anyone would be able to hear him out here anyway. He couldn’t see any surrounding terrain aside from the very small island where he currently stood, but he imagined that there wouldn’t be any masses of land anywhere close by. In fact, for all intents and purposes, he imagined he was about as far from civilization as one could possibly get within the dimension. He walks the few steps it takes to stride the length of the island, just to be sure, but no, there was nothing.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">And it feels a </span> <span class="s2"> <em>little</em> </span> <span class="s1"> bit like a cop-out, if he’s honest. Because it wasn’t necessarily </span> <span class="s2"> <em>wrong</em> </span> <span class="s1"> within the context - this </span> <span class="s2"> <em>was</em> </span> <span class="s1"> probably the worst possible place for him to start.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">But only because he literally cannot do </span> <span class="s2"> <em>anything</em> </span> <span class="s1">.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks out at the seemingly infinite lake of lava before him. The tiny shelf of netherrack on which he had spawned could hardly be considered an island. It was small enough that he could walk from one end to the other with only a few strides in each direction, and the landscape, if one could call it that, was completely bare. No warped trees, no stone, no vines or sprouts or shoots of any kind. Not even a single, solitary mushroom. Just a completely empty island surrounded by a seemingly endless sea of lava.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He somehow thought this was unfair.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He walks to the edge of the island, looking down into the bubbling expanse of orange before him. It was impossible to see through the murky hot liquid, and for the life of him he couldn’t even tell how far his own island descended into the depths. He chips away at a block right near the edge, breaking it, before staring down into the hot lava beneath it. Just as he thought. The expanse of land on which he stood was nothing more than a simple floating platform hovering about the endless sea.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>I guess I can’t tunnel beneath it...</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">He briefly wonders what would happen if he were to just remove the entire island, but he decides against it. Normal rules would dictate that he would spawn on the next available land space, but then, he had also started in the </span> <span class="s2"> <em>Nether</em> </span> <span class="s1">. They weren’t exactly </span> <span class="s2"> <em>using</em> </span> <span class="s1"> normal rules, and he didn’t particularly fancy getting stuck in an infinite death loop of being burnt to a crisp. But he also didn’t exactly have many others alternatives.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He considers his options, which were few if any. Option A - he could take out the island and hope that by some miracle he would spawn somewhere else. This was a good plan in theory, but there was also a high probability that this would destroy his spawn completely, leaving him stranded in a lake of lava and stuck in an infinite death loop for all eternity. Or Option B - he could do nothing. He could simple sit and wait and hope to be found. But even then, this seemed a relatively unlikely scenario. He was so far in the middle of nowhere that he seriously doubted that anyone would simply stumble upon him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A Strider approaches, emerging from the lava, where it begins to stride across the small expanse of island, shivering and shaking as it begins to turn blue, until it eventually comes to a stop just beside the islands sole occupant.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Xisuma smiles, reaching a hand forward to pat the creatures head fondly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“At least I have you guys to keep me company.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Strider chirps in response.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And that’s when realization dawns on him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His hand stops it’s movements as he stares down at the creature before him. Striders dropped string. Which could be crafted into wool. Which could be used as a scaffolding block.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He removes his hand abruptly, looking out across the expanse of lava where he can see a plethora of Striders splashing happily within the hot liquid. He looks back at the one on the island, a nauseous sort of feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. He stares down at the creature, the realization of what was expected finally dawning upon him, and the man stares down at the form of the Strider with a look of pure horror.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>No...</em> </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. GoodTimesWithScar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Scar was a builder. Anyone with eyes could have told you as much. He was phenomenal at landscaping, he had a particular knack for custom trees, and overall he just had a keen eye for detail. He loved to build organically, and it had just always been something that had come naturally to him. We will reiterate: Scar was a master builder.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Overall, he felt he shouldn’t be too overly impacted. After all, he was fluent in many styles of building, and so long as he could continue to be able to build, he would be fine. It wouldn’t matter where he was - all he needed was blocks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">How ironic it was then, that he should spawn in a place of relatively restricted access.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The deep ocean wasn’t particularly known for its vast supply of materials. In fact, it was exactly the opposite. Oceans were nothing more than a vast expanse of water that went from sea level to the ocean floor, with some being able to stretch on for hundreds or even thousands of miles.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Due to the plethora of water, the biome itself didn’t particularly pose too much of a threat from a hostile monster standpoint, aside from maybe the few odd drowned that would spawn about. But even then, ordinary drowned had always been relatively easy to deal with. The trident wielding variants might have been more of an issue, but they were a lot less common, and staying near the surface should have been enough to prevent him from being spotted. Drowned were only particularly hostile during the night or if one went underwater anyway, and with that knowledge in mind, all he really had to do was keep his head above the surface and they would just leave him alone. </span>This was good news for him, given his extensive track record of deaths he had acquired throughout the years.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The lack of land, however, did mean that anyone starting there would have a relatively restricted access to resources.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Aside from water, the biomes mostly consisted of a layer of gravel covering the ocean floor. Occasionally he might happen to find the odd spot of dirt or sand, and if he was really lucky maybe even some clay, but aside from that, there were no solid blocks he could obtain. No grass, no wood, no stone. Even then, the few blocks he </span> <span class="s2"><em>could</em> </span> <span class="s1">collect were generated at the bottom of the ocean. Meaning he would have to dive all the way down to collect his resources, only to frantically swim all the way back to the surface when his breath inevitably ran out. Coupled with the fact that he had yet to obtain any tools, this meant he would have to break all of the blocks by hand, and when the speed at which one could do so was all but halved due to the surrounding water, this would be a </span> <span class="s2"> <em>very</em> </span> <span class="s1"> painfully slow process. Survival in the biome itself was both impractical as well as near impossible.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lucky him.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Now, the situation was not to be confused, because it wasn’t </span> <span class="s2"> <em>entirely</em> </span> <span class="s1"> bad. There were plenty of cod around, so he would at least have a steady access to food. The squid would be a relatively early access to black dye, which was often a pain to obtain later, and once he got his hands on a furnace the kelp would be an easily renewable source of fuel. Even the drowned had a relatively small chance of dropping gold or a trident, which could be useful for crafting, and this would at least give him </span> <span class="s2">some</span> <span class="s1"> form of weapon that provided him a basic means of defending himself.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But it was his lack of other resources that was going to get him killed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">No trees meant no wood, which meant no crafting table, which meant no tools. And without tools, there was only so much he could realistically do in this area.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He swims forward, feeling the cold water lap at his skin through the fabric of his soaked clothing. He couldn’t stay here. He had made his own islands in the ocean before, but to do that he had needed resources of which he now did not possess, nor did he have access to. And in order to obtain them, he was going to need to find land. <em>Any</em> land.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Preferably one with trees.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He continues to swim on across the vast expanse of water, occasionally looking down into the dark depths below. Scar had even had the misfortune of spawning in a cold ocean, which meant he didn’t even have access to coral. Given, he still wouldn’t have been able to obtain the blocks anyway, not without the use of a silk touch pickaxe. But even then, the sea pickles might have provided him with at least a little bit of light, and then he might have at least had something nice to look at. But there was nothing here. Just a vast expanse of cold, dark ocean with nothing more than the water it contained, some bits of gravel, and the occasional spattering of sea grass and kelp.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks out onto the endless horizon of water with a sigh.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He really hoped he found land soon. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>SO</p><p>I very much have not finished this entire fic, and as of right now I still have not yet decided on a starting point for Zedaph, Doc, Tango, Etho, Jevin, Beef, Wels, and XB. I also have a VERY temporary location earmarked for both Keralis and False, but I am not married to either of these locations, and as of now I have Iskall written as being SOMEWHERE in the Nether for plot purposes, but nothing specific, so if anyone has any suggestions at all for anything I would love to hear them!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. BdoubleO100</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bdubs had resolved to tackle the Monument methodically. Well, as methodically as was possible for him - meaning not at all. The structures in general consisted of a variety of chambers, each connecting vertically and horizontally to the different parts of the Monument, and he knew the building itself would contain at least six rooms, although there could have been more. This didn’t particularly bode well for him, mainly from a navigation perspective, but it was still doable. He just needed to find the entrance.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Monument itself would have a total of about 4 floors, one of which he had already covered, having started in the topmost room. The entrance, or exit in this particular case, would be located on the first floor, pretty much directly in the centre of one of the walls. This meant that realistically, all he had to do was find a couple of shoots that would take him down. That shouldn’t have been too difficult of a task. He could do this.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He dives down through the first hole and is immediately faced with a decision. There stood two paths, one directly in front of him, and one just to his left, but both directions with the remaining route obscured from view. He looks between the two tunnels before making a quickfire decision, swimming through the prismarine archway of the hallway in front of him. He’d find out one way or another if this had been the wrong choice.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The hall continued forwards before branching off sharply to the right, and he turns the corner to find-</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>A dead end.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>And a Guardian.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He tries to take it out, but it’s no use. They had too much health, and they dealt too much damage. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>BdoubleO100 was killed by Guardian using Magic. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Alright, not the best start. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He starts again, this time with the left tunnel. This one branches off to the left at the end, and once again he turns the corner. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Yes! A downspout!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He immediately swims through the gap in the floor. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>One floor down.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Here, he is once again faced by two directions. One on the left, and one on the right. From his current location, he can see that both possess another downspout to the floor below, but which to take...</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Going off of the previous direction, he once again decides to take the left tunnel, diving through the gap in the floor, and emerging in the water-filled room below. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This location felt much less like a hall. In fact, the space had almost tripled the size of the rooms previous, with 6 pillars flanking the walls and a single larger pillar directly in the centre of the room. He swims down, surveying his surroundings. This time, there is only one direction for him to take, and he finds himself swimming down another, albeit much longer, hallway. One that looked suspiciously to lead to a side wing. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He swims forward, finally reaching the end of the long hallway, and as he reaches the end of the wall, he makes to turn the corner and-</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s3"> <em> <b>nOPE</b> </em> </span> <span class="s1">.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He immediately turns back around as he comes face to face with yet another Elder Guardian. He makes to swim back down the tunnel from whence he came, but his time was up. A stream of bubbles erupts from his nose as the remainder of his breath runs out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">BdoubleO100 drowned</span> <span class="s1">.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Had his lungs currently been capable of holding air, he would have sighed.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">He continued on in this fashion for what felt to him to be hours, but in reality he had no way of telling just how much time had passed. A dead end here, a guardian there, </span> <span class="s2"> <em>BdoubleO100 was slain, BdoubleO100 drowned</em> </span> <span class="s1">. This was his fate. He had all but just accepted this as simply being his life now, and he is just starting to think how he will never again see the surface when he finally spots it.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>There!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was the exit. He had finally converged upon the correct chamber, and then the door is right there in front of him. All he had to do was cross the room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The room which, as it so happened, was also filled to the brim with Guardians.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">He takes a solid 1 second to consider before he’s swimming into the room, plowing straight towards the large pack of Guardian’s at full speed. The exit was </span> <span class="s2"> <em>right there</em> </span> <span class="s1">. All he had to do was get to the surface and he would be fine, he could regenerate his health all he wanted. But right now, the only thing standing between him and that reality was roughly 60 feet of water and a whole lot of Guardian’s.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He swims straight ahead, eyes locking on his target goal as he does his best to ignore the creatures. He wasn’t even going to look at them. He didn’t have time to fight them right now, and hitting one would only waste his health.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s halfway across the room now, accidentally brushing one of the oversized fish with his shoulder in passing, and their thorns send a sharp pain rushing through his arm.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Ack! He got me!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But he can’t stop. He was almost there! He could almost touch the door now. Just a little bit further and-</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s shot by a laser.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That one hurt a little bit more. And what’s worse, he was now out of breath. But he’s there. He had finally reached the exit, and he kicks with all his might, propelling himself through the open threshold and away from the dangerous creatures behind him.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">And then he’s swimming upwards, the burning in his lungs becoming more difficult to ignore. He was almost out. He’d have to get to the surface soon or he would drowned, and then he’d have to start all over. But it’s so close! He was </span> <span class="s2"> <em>just</em> </span> <span class="s1"> there! But the burning is unbearable. He can’t take it anymore. The bubbles erupt from his nose as the remainder of his breath runs out.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Three...</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Two...</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>One.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">He breaches the surface with a gasp, immediately filling his half drowned lungs with a gulp of air that had never before feltso satisfying. </span> <span class="s2"> <em>Half a heart</em> </span> <span class="s1">. He had done it with </span> <span class="s2"> <em>half a heart</em> </span> <span class="s1"> remaining, and with his hunger still completely full, that meant his health would only continue to improve. He had done it. He had succeeded. He had finally escaped the horrible Monument of his suffering, and now all he needed was for his health to regenerate completely and he could get out of there. He sighs.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He glances down, spotting the form of a single Drowned in the depths beneath him, the creature in question now holding a trident aloft as if poised to fire.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh no you don’t.” He makes as if to move out of the way, but is suddenly interrupted by the last thing he could have possibly expected.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bdubs?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His head immediately swivels around to locate the source of the voice that had called him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Was that..?</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>BdoubleO100 was impaled by Drowned. </em> </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. ZombieCleo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a brief disclaimer, I do test all of these escape methods in my own Minecraft world to make sure that they do in fact work, but I also own the Bedrock version and I think the Hermits play on Java so there may be some discrepancies.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The cages should have been simple. Contrary to how the dragon fights typically transpired, she figured that the cages would be relatively easy to deal with. After all, all one really had to do was hit the side of the cage with an enderpearl and they would immediately be teleported straight to the top. All the cage did was ensure that she had a solid place to aim without accidentally hitting the crystal and blowing it, and her, to kingdom come. All she needed was an enderpearl. Which, thanks to the many thousands of enderman the dimension contained, she was not in particularly short supply of.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The real problem would come once she actually got to the top. The end crystals, as was fairly common knowledge, were quite explosive, and hitting one at such close range would definitely result in certain death. Meaning, she would have to dig down at least 2 blocks on the top of the platform in order to stay clear of the blast radius. However, her complete lack of tools or other supplies meant this would lead to one very annoying series of events for the woman.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She was going to have to punch obsidian. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo had never been the most patient person in the universe, and digging down 2 blocks meant that this would take her roughly 10 minutes for each platform. Multiplied by 10 obsidian towers. This meant she was going to spend at least an hour and 40 minutes just punching obsidian, and that was assuming her plan was executed absolutely perfectly - which, let’s be honest, was about as close to a non-existent reality as one could possibly get.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She twists the enderpearl around in her hand, staring up at the first caged pillar. It wasn’t the tallest platform, but by no means the shortest either. This was one of the easy ones, she reminds herself, squaring her shoulders as she stares down her target, mentally envisioning her aim at the centre of the cage. She glances around briefly for any sign of the dragon, but finds none. It must be on the other side of the island.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Well, no time like the present I suppose...</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She takes a deep breath, raising her arm, and she lets lose the pearl.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">One second. Two seconds. Three—</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3"> <b> <em>POP</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The pearl strikes the side of the cage, and then she’s on the ledge. It was a perfect shot. She glances down the side of the pillar warily. It was a long enough drop that she would definitely take a fair amount of damage if she were to fall, or the drop would simply do her in altogether. Even if the drop wasn’t enough to kill her, she didn’t have any food to regenerate her health, and she likely wouldn’t survive much longer after that. Shaking her head, she looks back towards the crystal, now mere feet from her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The cage meant that it was completely surrounded on all sides, and one would need to breach the containment in order to get to the crystal. She could just break the cage and walk through, but she needed those bars, and she needed as many as it would give her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Instead, she aims another pearl directly above her head, giving it only a gentle toss into the air. It takes a few seconds to land, but again she feels the familiar pull of teleportation, and then she’s standing on the top of the cage. The bars here didn’t connect like the sides did, which meant that there was a hole wide enough for her to squeeze through. She grips the bars, lowering her feet through the gap, and doing her best to avoid touching the explosive object. She takes another breath, and in one swift motion propels herself through the hole, her feet touching down half a second later with a FWUMP.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then she’s inside.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">She doesn’t waste any time as she immediately starts to dig down from the corner, crouching as she does. Realistically, she knew it wouldn’t prevent the dragon from spotting her, but the action still made her feel at least a </span> <span class="s2"> <em>little</em> </span> <span class="s1"> bit more secure.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">10 minutes. She needed approximately 10 minutes to break through the obsidian, and she somehow doubted the dragon would stay away for that long. But then, she hoped that maybe the cage would provide her with at least a </span> <span class="s2"> <em>little</em> </span> <span class="s1"> bit of protection - she wouldn’t be able to say the same for 8 of the remaining 10 pillars.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her plan goes off relatively without a hitch. The dragon flew by twice, but either seemed not to notice her, or else was unable to attack from the exterior of the cage. Not that she was complaining about this at all - she was more than happy to have it just ignore her completely for the time being, but she knew this definitely would not continue. 10 minutes pass, and then she’s sat in a hole.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She looks up, just being able to make out the tiniest corner of purple from her current position. She waits until she can’t hear the flapping of wings, being sure it’s safe, before leaping into the air and bopping the crystal with her hand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The object explodes spectacularly, shattering the iron surrounding it, but Cleo has already descended back into her hole of safety. She doesn’t even take a single heart of damage as the explosion erupts violently above her. And she doesn’t waste any time following it, lightly tossing another pearl into the air and landing atop the platform once more. She swiftly collects the broken shards of iron before throwing yet another pearl towards the ground, leaving the area before the dragon could catch her.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Without a tool, the end had a very limited amount of things she could collect. The only breakable block that she, herself, could obtain were the 4 torches that spawned on the portal, which she had collected almost immediately. Not that they would be of any use here, but they were still resources, and she’ll be damned if she wasn’t going to pick up absolutely everything she possibly could in this environment. The only other things that generated on the main end island was the landscape of yellow stone and the giant pillars of obsidian, with maybe a few bits of bedrock around the portal. None of which she could collect without a tool, or at all. Which left the only other thing that spawned there besides the dragon. </span> <span class="s2"><em>Enderman</em>.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Which meant that she had 4 torches and a stack or so of enderpearls to her name. </span>
</p><p class="p2">And now exactly 7 iron bars.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was only 1 cage left, and assuming it yielded the same amount, that meant she would have 14. Exactly 14 blocks that she could place, after which they could not be removed, and they would become all but useless to her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">14 blocks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She was going to be sure not to waste them. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So there are a FEW characters that I’ve pretty much written their whole storyline in its entirety, and Cleo is one of these characters. I was just very excited about it ok? 😅 Also, realistically I know she could have just blown up the crystals and died every time and she would finished the entire fight a lot more quickly, but I like to believe that she is stubborn and would like to die the least amount of times possible. (Also it was much more fun to write the ~suffering~)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Xisuma</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wouldn’t do it. He refused. He didn’t know what Gods he had pissed off in order for them to curse him so, but he wasn’t going to play their game. Xisuma loved his striders, almost as much as his bees, and asking him to slay one was like asking Scar to kill his cat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>He wouldn’t do it.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sits cross-legged in the centre of his island, as if in an act of defiance, although he himself not feeling particularly defiant. In fact, he felt almost the opposite. He was trapped, with nothing more he could do. Alone on a tiny island surrounded by lava with no way of leaving and a very little chance of discovery.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This was torture.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Had they know? He felt they must have. They must have known he wouldn’t harm his beloved striders, and thus would be trapped there upon his island of misery. The creatures were only there as a means of temptation. To taunt him in his own uselessness. Was that the plan? To render him useless? To place him on a tiny island in the middle of nowhere with no way of escaping only because they’d </span> <span class="s2"> <em>known</em> </span> <span class="s1">. They’d know that the only way to truly best him was to ensure he could do nothing at all.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A baby strider waddles up to him, shaking and blue and stumbling over its own feet as it flops haphazardly into his lap. He reaches down towards the innocent looking creature, scooping it up in his hands.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Or were they testing his patience? His </span> <span class="s2"> <em>loyalty</em></span><span class="s1">? How long can Xisuma go before the pressure starts to build? How much can he take before he starts to crack? How long can he go before he does the inevitable?</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The strider lets out a small, high-pitched chirp, and Xisuma releases it, steering it back towards the edge of the island, and he watches as it bumbles away back into the lava.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Or maybe they’d know that either way it wouldn’t matter. Because in the end, either alternative was just as bad. He could either kill the striders, obtaining their string for wool, and he would be able to leave the island. Or he could stay there and likely never see his friends again, and likewise his friends would be trapped in the world, unable to leave without him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Would they be upset? Maybe. But he had hoped his friends would know him enough that they would at least understand. He knew they could never hate him for it. They might have been upset by the prospect of being stuck in this world, but they would never hate him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But instead of making him feel a little bit better about his decision, this knowledge only makes him feel worse.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry guys.” He mutters into the expanse of nothing that was his surroundings, more to himself than anything else. Again, not that anyone would be able to hear him out here anyway.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But then, maybe someone had.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Or some </span> <span class="s2"> <em>thing</em> </span> <span class="s1">.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A sound like a jumping slime reaches his ears. Only, he knows he’s in the wrong dimension. It couldn’t be a slime. But if it wasn’t a slime, then that meant...</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He turns just in time to see the figure of a giant magma cube approaching, and he quickly climbs to his feet.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Not wasting any time, he immediately moves toward the creature, hitting it back before it could travel the expanse of the island. Magma cubes weren’t the lowest on the health chain, and without a weapon, his fists could only do so much damage.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He gets in three hits before he runs, not risking having the creature jump out and cause him damage. Not that it particularly mattered one way or another if he had no way of leaving anyway. But even still, the survival instincts were engrained in him, and really if he was going to die, he would have rather it not been to a magma cube.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">One, two, three, back. One, two, three, back. This is the pattern he uses. Over and over, until eventually the monster is slain. He looks to the ground where he can now see a single magma cream sitting perched upon the Netherrack surface. He reaches forward, picking up the single ball in his hands and examining the object.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And that’s when it hits him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He immediately walks towards the edge of his island, circling the outer perimeter as he stares out into the lake of lava, as if looking for something within its depths. Several minutes pass. Five. Ten. Twenty. In fact it had been almost a full half an hour before he spots it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He stops, standing on the very edge of his island, as far as it would allow, and another magma cube appears from the depths of the lava, coming straight for him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He lures the creature onto the island, maneuvering himself as he had before until it, too, has been slain. He continues this entire process an additional 4 times before finally he has acquired the materials that he needs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">4 magma cream.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Taking the objects in his hand, he immediately fashions them into a single magma block before walking to the edge of the island and placing it down, making the platform on which he stood now a single block bigger.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He smiles to himself. He had done it. He had beat the system. He didn’t have to kill his striders after all! He could just wait for Magma Cubes to spawn and then fashion a series of magma blocks of which he could stand. He smiles to himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A smile that soon fades as he looks out across the vastness of lava. That one block had taken him an hour to collect. Given, he had admittedly been very unlucky with the drops. The medium and large sized Magma Cubes each had a 50% chance of dropping a magma cream, and he had only gotten 1 in total during his first fight. Another one hadn’t even dropped any at all. In fact, he had fought at least 5 of them to get that single block, but without a looting sword, drops were much more rare, and when he couldn’t leave the island to hunt them down, he could only be so efficient at half efficiency.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks down at the magma block at his feet and then out across the lava lake before him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>This could take a while...</em> </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. GoodTimesWithScar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Scar had been swimming for a full day without any sign of land. Against all odds, he had somehow managed to survive his first night. A few drowned had come after him, but none so far that had wielded tridents, and with only one night without sleep, he wasn’t yet at the point of spawning phantoms.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But he had still found zero land. In fact, the sun was just starting to rise across the horizon, and he had still found nothing. He had killed off the odd fish, and a few times he had risked the dive to the bottom, collecting whatever blocks he could before returning to the surface, but that was it.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">He had mainly just wanted to say that he had </span> <em> <span class="s2">something</span><span class="s1">. </span> <span class="s3"> <b>Anything</b></span></em><span class="s1"><em>.</em> He wasn’t used to being empty handed for so long, but in the middle of the ocean, resources were scarce, and he was going to collect everything that he could, even if this consisted of only a few basic scaffolding blocks.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">It is almost midday before he finds anything of value. And by value, he meant </span> <span class="s2"> <em>literally anything at all</em> </span> <span class="s1">. The Ocean was just a large mass of nothing, and at this point he was willing to take whatever he could get.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">GoodTimesWithScar has just earned the achievement </span> <span class="s3"><b>[Ahoy!]</b>.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A sunken ship appears in his field of vision, dead ahead, and he breathes a sigh of relief.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Now, given the circumstances, a shipwreck wasn’t the most exciting discovery in the world. At this point in the game he would have much preferred the tiniest plot of land with a single tree, but again, given the circumstances, he was also not inclined to complain. Shipwrecks would have chests with loot, which meant supplies. And right now, even some bits of coal and some carrots were as good as diamonds, and he looked to have been lucky enough to have found a ship that was still mostly in tact.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Meaning more loot.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He takes a deep gulp of air before descending below the surface of the water, diving down to the ruins of shipwreck below. He would have to be quick. The structure was a long way down, and he couldn’t hold his breath forever. He would go in, get the stuff, and then leave. In and out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He opens the first chest that he sees, one that is located at what once might have been the bow of the ship. He pulls out some carrots, some wheat, a few bits of coal, an enchanted leather chest plate, and a single piece of bamboo. This must have been the supply chest. Out of the corner of his eye he can see another chest further down the ship, but he’s not chancing it. He instead swims back towards the surface, propelling himself through the water. He needed to refill his breath before exploring further, and then he could go back for it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He breaches the surface once again, examining the items he had obtained. He immediately puts on the chest plate, slinging it around his shoulders. Leather wasn’t the best armour to have, but it was certainly better than nothing, and it had Unbreaking II, so at least it would last for a little while.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He waits for a moment more, catching his breath, before diving back beneath the surface. The next chest is located at the stern, and he figured this must have been the treasure variant.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"><em>Jackpot</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">7 iron, 1 emerald, 2 lapis, a few iron nuggets, and a single diamond. Not that he could do anything with any of that at the moment, but he was more than happy to take the treasures. He swims back to the surface once again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was only one chest left, after which he could move on and hopefully find some land. He dives back into the depths again, this time heading towards what once was maybe a captains cabin, but it looked to have long since overgrown with aquatic vegetation; a cod swims through the remains of a broken window and out the door.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He moves to open the chest, peering into its contents. His eye is immediately drawn towards the shape of a treasure map, and he immediately scoops it up in his hand. However, aside from this, the chest did not appear to have anything else of apparent value. Some feathers, some paper, a compass. He takes the items, regardless, stuffing them into his pockets, and then he is making his way back to the surface.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Welp, time to find some land.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Only, land is not exactly what he finds.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had been swimming for about half a day when he stumbles upon another structure beneath the surface. He is just approaching the building when suddenly, unexpectedly, something leaps from the water directly in front of him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh no you don’t.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He blinks, looking at the figure that had now appeared in his line of sight.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bdubs?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>BdoubleO100 was impaled by Drowned.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Scar winces.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Whoops...</em> </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. BdoubleO100</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, following this chapter I have a solid 3 more chapters backlogged that are in the correct publishing order, but I will be starting school again as of tomorrow and will have significantly less time to write, which means I will likely not have as regular of an upload schedule. I will still continue to write away in the background, it might just be a little bit slower than usual 😅</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It takes Bdubs just over 15 seconds to get back to the surface again, having pretty much memorized the entire layout of the Monument; having spent the last day and a half navigating its labyrinth-like halls. He breaches the surface once again, this time to see the figure of Scar, the man having now built a very rickety looking platform from a gravel tower connected to the prismarie roof of the structure, and 4 dirt blocks sitting directly over the centre of the Monument. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Scar! That </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>was</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> you! Oh good I thought I was hallucinating.” He heaves his body onto the makeshift platform, his soaked clothes dripping loudly as the gush of wet that leaves them smacks against the surface of the water, and he finally climbs out of the freezing Ocean. He immediately runs a hand through his hair, shaking out the water droplets.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Scar chuckles lightly. “Nope. No hallucinations here. Just me. Sorry about that by the way.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh good! And it’s fine, fine. I mean, it’s not like I had far to go anyway.” He smiles. “How did you find me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, I didn’t really mean to, but I’m glad I did. It was starting to get a bit lonely out here, but it looks like these guys have been keeping you plenty of company.” He gestures to the Guardians swimming in the depths below. Bdubs scowls, bunching a corner of his shirt into a ball and wringing the water from the soaked material.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, they’re like pests that you can’t get rid of. Hateful creatures they are, <em>yOU HEAR ME?</em>” He looks down into the water, pointedly staring at the blob of a fish that was a Guardian swimming happily beneath his feet. “<em>HATEFUL CREATURES!</em>” The Guardian simply meanders on, completely unperturbed by the man yelling insults at it above the surface. Bdubs jerks his arms up and down, shaking the water from the sleeves.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So you’ve been here the whole time?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, I spawned in the top room there.” He points to the structure beneath him before finally falling back against the platform, taking a deep breath of air as he looks up at the sky above him. “Air is a </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>very</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> lovely thing, Scar. Very lovely, yes.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Scar smiles, reclining his hands behind his head as he too looks up at the sky. “Yes, yes it is.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">They are silent for a moment longer, the pair lying serenely, simply watching the clouds roll by above them, before Bdubs speaks again.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So where did you start?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Somewhere out in the Ocean. I’ve been swimming for almost 2 days. No sign of land, but I did manage to raid a shipwreck.” Scar moves into a sitting position. “No tools, but there was at least a bit of food. I suppose it’s a good thing I went the direction I did though, or I might not have found you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, it was very lucky!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The water laps at the side of their platform, and they listen as the waves crash gently around them, the sun warming their sodden forms. Again, a bought of silence washes over the two as they sit and contemplate, before Bdubs once again speaks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right, now that that’s over with,” he gestures vaguely towards the form of the Monument as a whole “let’s get out of here.” He makes as if to stand, but stops short.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What are you talking about, we can’t leave.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks down at the form of Scar who had yet to move from his sitting position. “Say what?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We can’t leave, we’re in the perfect spot. We need be smart about this.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bdubs blinks. He was joking. Surly he must have been joking. He had spent almost 2 days trying desperately to escape the Ocean Monument, drowning repeatedly and gasping for air and getting slain over and over again by Guardians, and now Scar wanted to </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>stay</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> there?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Aren’t we supposed to find the others? We can’t really find people if we stay here.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, but </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>they</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> can find </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>us</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bdubs blinks again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Scar, we are in the middle of the Ocean. How exactly do we think people are going to find us out here?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Scar shrugs nonchalantly. “Cartographers.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“...Come again?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bdubs, you’ve died enough times to Guardians that people definitely know you’re at an Ocean Monument. And the Cartographers in Villages sell maps.” He pauses. Bdubs blinks. “</span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>To Ocean Monuments</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A beat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“...<em>Oh!</em>”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Scar smiles.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Exactly. People know that you’re here. All we have to do is stay here and those maps will lead people right to us.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Stressmonster101</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is tagged for slight bits of blood, but respawn is still a thing, so she will be fine.  Non-permanent injury!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stress had never liked the Nether. It was no secret that she just avoided it like the plague. She had never been one of those people that spent hours making a complex system of Nether tunnels, because she just simply </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>didn’t</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> go in the Nether.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ever.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">To an extent she could see the appeal. The horizontal distances in the Overworld were scaled down by a ratio of 8:1 for travel in the Hell Dimension, which essentially meant that traveling in the Nether was 8 times as fast. Really some of the blocks were rather pretty as well, particularly pertaining to the forest biomes or blackstone variants, and if you wanted anything to do with potions, chances are you were going to have to go to the Nether for ingredients. To this extent she could see why others liked it so much.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was everything else she detested.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The ghasts. The blaze. The hoglins. The pigmen. The </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>lava</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">. There were far too many things in the Nether that could and </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>wanted</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> to kill her, and really it was an entire dimension that was just designed to, well, </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>stress her out</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Given the parameters of the game, it hadn’t particularly surprised her when she had started there. Given that anyone who knew her for more than a day and a half could probably tell you her fear of the dimension, she had been expecting it, really.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">What she failed to take into account, however, was that there were some places in the Nether that were </span>
  <span class="s3">
    <em>
      <b>so</b>
    </em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> much worse.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nice Piggy...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She peaks her head out from behind the blackstone wall, side-eying the Piglin that stood just around the corner. Stress had endured the misfortune of spawning in the middle of a Bastion, and while the Piglins </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>normally</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> wouldn’t have been too much of an issue, provided of course that one was wearing at least a singular piece of golden armour, right now these creatures were going to be, and in fact had already been, the death of her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She had of course started with nothing, as was typical and expected, but while this might not have been too much of an issue in the Overworld, it was certainly going to be a </span>
  <span class="s3">
    <em>
      <b>big</b>
    </em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> problem in the Nether.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She moves to tiptoe out the door, doing her best to sneak around while the Piglins back was turned, somehow managing to navigate the course of the room without being spotted. She didn’t even care about the fabled loot chests that contained all manner of rare and highly sought after items. In fact, right now, she couldn’t have cared less. She just wanted to get out of there.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She creeps up another winding staircase of a corridor, her heart beating loudly in her own ears, and she silently prays that it is not in fact as loud as it appears for fear of discovery. She had already died multiple times, so this was by no means her first attempt at escape, but without any armour, those pigs were drawn to her like a heat sinking missile.She could hardly handle ordinary zombies in the Overworld who would attack at a little more than a leisurely stroll, but when things in the Nether tended to charge at her at full speed, she simply just did not cope.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She rounds the corner, immediately stumbling upon a group of Piglins, and she immediately turns back around, making as if to go back the way she had come, but it’s no use, they had spotted her. She lets out a high pitched squeal as the group converges upon her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">
    <em>Stressmonster101 was slain by Piglin.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She groans.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s2">I hate the Nether. I </span>
    <span class="s3">
      <b>hate</b>
    </span>
    <span class="s2"> the Nether. I </span>
    <span class="s3">
      <b>hate</b>
    </span>
    <span class="s2">. The </span>
    <span class="s4">
      <b>
        <span class="u">nETHER</span>
      </b>
    </span>
    <span class="s2">.</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This was torture. She couldn’t go anywhere without those Piglins attacking, and they were absolutely </span>
  <span class="s2">everywhere</span>
  <span class="s1">. She’d hardly even made it outside of her own spawning chamber without immediately dying to swarms of the beasts. If she could just get her hands on some golden armour...</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She spawns again, striding to walk to the nearest doorway as she once again attempts to find an exit.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But she hadn’t traveled far. She had only gone a few feet away when she once again spots the familiar form of a single Piglin, the creature in question donned in full golden armour, and a purple aura emanating from its golden blade. But it’s too late to go back. She had been careless with her footsteps, and the Piglin is now charging towards her at full speed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh come on, now! I’ve barely left spawn!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She turns on her heel, running circles around the room as she attempts to stay ahead of the creature. “No! Stay back! </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>Back</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">!” She turns around briefly, wacking the pig on the snout, before turning again, continuing to run. “</span>
  <span class="s2"><em>Back</em> </span>
  <span class="s1">I say!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She repeats this process several more times before something amazing happens. She turns to bop the Piglin once again, only this time when her fist makes contact, the creatures lets out a high pitched squeal, toppling over towards the ground where its body proceeds to dissipate into a puff of smoke.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She blinks, mouth agape, as she stares at the place where the creature had been slain, completely in shock with herself that she had somehow managed to kill it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then she notices.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A single golden chest plate sat perched upon the ground in the spot where the Piglin had died, and she hastily reaches for the armour, slinging it around her back as she dons the gear. It was almost completely out of durability, but at that moment it didn’t particularly matter. After all, she hadn’t intended for the use to be an armour anyway. She just needed it to last long enough so she could get through the Bastion without the Piglins rushing her around every corner, and in theory the garment would make them leave her alone. She smiles.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then she screams.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She recoils forwards when she feels a sharp jab of pain in her right shoulder, and she turns to see the form of a now bloodied axe raised to strike, another Piglin now standing directly behind her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Only, this one is different.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Contrary to the way the Piglins normally dressed themselves, this one is clad entirely in robes of black, a large and prominent golden buckle fastening a thick leather belt round the creatures waist. The contrasting gold of the accessory looks sharp against the onyx material. Regal, pristine. And the combination makes the outfit stand out, placing the abode well above the everyday standard of the typically tawny brown robes of which the other occupants possessed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The creature carried no armour, save for a single golden arm plate fastened around its left forearm, but even then, Stress imagined this simple accessory was mostly aesthetical. She couldn’t have imagined it possibly needed use of any armour, and really why </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>would</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> it need to? They were fast, and strong, and hit like a truck, and really all a set of armour would do was slow them down.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She immediately rights herself and runs across the room, ignoring the pain in her shoulder as she takes off at a sprint through the winding hallways. But she doesn’t get far. She turns a corridor only to find a dead end. And then shes trapped.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She watches the creature round the corner, catching a glimpse of the prominent scar that sliced directly through its left eye, marring the tissue with a series of spider like cracks that warped the skin around the area; deep rooted grooves that branched off across the face like an intricate system of veins. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Piglin charges towards her, the light from the lava somewhere outside the window casting the room in a dull reddish glow, and the creature raises its axe menacingly, her own blood dripping from the edges of the golden blade.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">
    <em>Oh this is not fair...</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">
    <em>Stressmonster101 was slain by Piglin Brute. </em>
  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. ZombieCleo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, again, I know she could really just enderpearl to the top of the towers and whack the crystals and die every time and this would be a lot faster, but I figured Cleo is stubborn enough to try for no deaths, and since pain is still a thing in this universe (even though there is no permanent death) I figured exploding would hurt a lot. This was also one of those chapters that I tested extensively in my own world, and it does work so it is completely possible, it just takes a very long time to punch obsidian.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Gods were testing her. She was sure that was what was happening. She was certain that whatever deities had come to place her on this wretched world were currently sat around their celestial version of a spy glass and laughing. Pointing and laughing and just generally finding all manner of enjoyment in her current suffering.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">They were testing her patience. That was it. </span> <span class="s2"> <em>How long can Cleo go before she finally loses it? Let’s all watch as Cleo suffers and toils as her mind finally descends into insanity.</em> </span> <span class="s1"> This was all just some elaborate test that she was expected to pass.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She was failing horribly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She wasn’t annoyed. Oh no. Cleo would not have described herself as feeling annoyed, because in honesty that word was not an accurate representation of her thoughts. In fact she had long since surpassed annoyed. The word annoyed had left her arsenal of feeling hours ago. Now, she was just pissed off.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Because it couldn’t end like </span> <span class="s2"> <em>this</em> </span> <span class="s1">.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She had taken out just over half of the crystals dotted around the island, somehow against all odds having managed to survive this long without dying. She hadn’t particularly factored into account that the larger obsidian pillars were also twice as wide, which meant that she couldn’t just drop an iron bar 2 blocks down from the top and expect to hit it from there as she could with the smallest pillars. It was out of range. And she couldn’t exactly stand on the top and simply dig her way down either, the dragon came by much too frequently for that.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">How she had been tackling these larger pillars was simple. She would enderpearl to the top of the tower, where she would then walk to one of the corners and place a single iron bar on the 3rd block from the top along the side of the structure. She would then jump down to the bar, out of direct view of the dragon, where she would stand and proceed to remove 2 vertical blocks of obsidian. At which point, she used this space as a foothold for herself as she removed another 2 blocks closer to the centre, where she was finally close enough to reach the crystal and destroy it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This method wasn’t fool proof, but it worked well enough for the most part. And really, she didn’t have much other choice if she didn’t want to get blown up. This method did, however, mean that her original calculations of timing had been off. She had factored 2 blocks of obsidian per pillar, which would have been about 1 hour and 40 minutes of obsidian removal. But the size of the larger pillars meant that she had to remove an extra 2 blocks of obsidian along the side in order to get to the space she needed where she was in range.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Which meant that the removal of blocks on each one of these large pillars took roughly 20 minutes instead of 10.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She was sure that whatever chaos Gods had created her were having a field day.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Granted, her calculations hadn’t been </span> <span class="s2"><em>too</em></span> <span class="s1"> far off the mark. 2 of the 10 pillars had been small enough that she hadn’t needed to break any obsidian at at. She had simply teleported up, placed her iron bar on the 3rd block from the top, and simply whacked the crystal before scarpering away. The diameter had been small enough that she was already in range, and she had finished off both of those crystals within minutes.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The others weren’t quite so lucky.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">The caged ones had provided a small form of protection, and the short ones were skinny enough that she hadn’t had to break any blocks, which was nice. But she had </span> <span class="s2">severely</span> <span class="s1"> misinterpreted just how large the remaining 6 towers actually were.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Now, don’t get her wrong. The extra time involved in the removal of these structures was more than a little inconvenient, and she was by no means happy about the procedure. But this was only </span> <span class="s2"> <em>part</em> </span> <span class="s1"> of the reason for her disscontempt. There had been another development that, as of this particular moment, took far more precedence over the obsidian issue.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She collapses against the wall of the stone box she had started in, her body crippling towards the obsidian floor as she curls in on herself in a ball. She squints her eyes shut and rocks against the floor, as if the movement will somehow cause the crippling pain to subside, or the sudden lack of sight would somehow block out her other senses as well, and she would no longer be able to hear the sickening screeches of the still very upset dragon that she knew was circling outside.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">She was just so </span> <span class="s2"> <em>hungry</em> </span> <span class="s1">.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She couldn’t remember the last time she had ever been this hungry - she had just always had ready access to food. She really took for granted how easy it was to find food in the Overworld. It was easy enough to find a handful of seeds in the grass in order to grow some wheat. Animals like cows and pigs and sheep were at ready supply. If you found a Village, chances are there were more than enough crops to go around, and the residents were often more than happy to trade those crops for better sources of nourishment. Fish was easy enough to catch, and even kelp was an easy and renewable source of food.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But out here, there was nothing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">No meat, no bread, no berries. If she had spawned on one of the outer islands, she might have at least had access to chorus fruit, which would still have been more than a little annoying to eat, but at least it was something.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Here she had nothing. Just 4 torches, some ender pearls, and a rapidly shrinking amount of iron bars.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her hunger was out. She could feel it. It had been a last ditch effort to hide herself away so that when the inevitable happened, she would at least be able to recover the few items she actually possessed. Her stomach hurt. The hunger was unbearable. She couldn’t take the pain anymore, but she knew it was almost over.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Three. Two. One.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She rests her head on her knees.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>ZombieCleo starved to death.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">After everything she had been through. After hours of punching obsidian and dodging around the dragon and avoiding disgruntled enderman, and </span> <span class="s2"> <em>this</em> </span> <span class="s1"> was how she goes out.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She reappears seconds later in almost the same spot she had died, immediately locating her lost items and reclaiming them once again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In the grande scheme of things, she knew it hadn’t really been her fault. After all, she could only realistically fight for so long before hunger inevitably started to take over. And with no food available to satiate it, her death had been inevitable.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But that didn’t mean it wasn’t still embarrassing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Starving to death was probably the most noobish way to die, and she could just imagine what the others thought when they saw the text across their screens. She takes out her own communicator, looking at the screen as if expecting her friends to blast her in the chat, but they don’t. They can’t. None of them could communicate through text, and she knew this. But the silence only makes her feel worse, and she couldn’t help but wonder what had become of her friends.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Suddenly, as if on cue, her communicator lets out a loud ding, and another message pops across the screen.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Stressmonster101 was slain by Piglin. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p2">Despite the morbid message, she can’t help the slight smile that twitches at the corner of her lips as she reads the text.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>At least someone’s in the same boat as me.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s silence for a moment longer before another ping sounds throughout her room-like box.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Stressmonster101 was slain by Piglin Brute.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo blinks, staring down at the message. She knew Stress had been in the Nether - it hadn’t particularly surprised her that she had started there. This wasn’t the first time she had been slain by its creatures, and it wasn’t the first time Cleo had seen her death message. But there was only one place that spawned Piglin Brutes. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>Stress is in a Bastion.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Given, this was still a very open ended discovery. Bastions were generated exclusively in the Nether, but even then, they could still be found in 4 out of the 5 biomes that were generated there. They were both common and rare, and while this really wasn’t exactly an explicit set of directions to her location, it certainly narrowed it down.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">But Cleo, on the other hand, was probably in the </span> <span class="s2"> <em>only</em> </span> <span class="s1"> place that could point directly to her location.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She throws her things on the ground once again, not wanting to risk their destruction, before marching back to the surface, straight towards the centre of the island, and she looks up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She waves her arms frantically as she tries to grab the attention of the beast. She was in the open, with no armour, no sword. And it only takes the dragon a second to notice before it is coming straight for her. Cleo takes a deep breath, squinting her eyes shut as she braces for the impact.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>ZombieCleo was slain by Ender Dragon.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She reappears moments later in her box of stone, collecting her items once again before they despawn, and looking at her communicator.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She couldn’t have possibly been more direct than that. There was only one End dimension, and only one Ender Dragon, and it only spawned on one island. She had essentially told the other Hermits exactly where she was.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She smiles to herself at her own cleverness, when suddenly 2 messages appear simultaneously across her screen. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>JoeHills was slain by Silverfish.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Rendog was slain by Shulker Bullet.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She stares at the message, blinking down at the names that had appeared.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">It hadn’t been the first time she’d seen a death message from Joe. The man had been slain by all manner of mobs - creepers, skeletons, spiders, </span> <span class="s2"> <em>skeletons</em> </span> <span class="s1">, zombies, </span> <span class="s3"> <b> <em>more skeletons</em> </b> </span> <span class="s1">. It didn’t particularly come as too much of a surprise for her - Joe had never been much of a fighter. But the Silverfish was new.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Poor Joe. He must be in a Stronghold.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She was just about to head back to the surface when another thought occurs to her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">Rendog</span> <span class="s1">.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That had been the first time she had seen his name cross the chat, and this was her first real insight into how he had been faring. At face value, the message itself wasn’t anything overly spectacular. People died all the time, and her communicator frequently displayed such messages.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">It was the manner of his death that intrigued her. </span> <span class="s2">Ren had been slain by a Shulker Bullet.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">A </span> <span class="s3"> <em>Shulker</em> </span> <span class="s1"> Bullet!</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Which was something that could only be produced from a </span> <span class="s2"> <em>live</em> </span> <span class="s1"> Shulker.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Which was something that was found </span> <span class="s2"> <em>exclusively</em> </span> <span class="s1"> in End Cities.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ren was in the End.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She blinks down at the text before her, this new information settling in her brain. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">Cleo wasn’t alone</span> <span class="s1">. </span> </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. JoeHills</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>UPDATE: The ending of this chapter has been changed slightly as I made a mistake with the crafting recipe of Ender Eyes, but this should be fixed now!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"><span class="s1">Joe had never been much of a fighter. He was a lousy shot with a bow, he lacked the coordination for the use of a sword, and he was fairly certain he’d never even </span> <span class="s2"> <em>held</em> </span> <span class="s1"> a trident before.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Joe was a man of words. He wrote poetry and recited Shakespeare and could rattle off any number of facts or interesting tidbits you wanted to know. But he was definitely not a fighter.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A Stronghold probably wasn’t the greatest place for him to start.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Strongholds were big and dark, and without proper lighting tended to spawn all manner of hostile monsters that wanted to kill him. His particular variant of the structure happened to intersect a skeleton spawner, which was more than a little bit difficult to disable when he didn’t have any torches, and hoards of skeletons tended to spawn every 5 seconds.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Don’t get him wrong, Joe was always up for a challenge. He enjoyed complicated puzzles and quests, and the winding labyrinth-like structure of the stronghold made it almost kin to that of a novel escape room, and he revelled at the prospect.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">He just couldn’t get around all of the dang </span> <span class="s2"> <em>mobs</em> </span> <span class="s1">.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was almost a form of irony that he had started there. It took something he enjoyed, and was good at, and had turned it against him. It was like unstoppable force meets immovable object. The maze he could deal with. The monsters, not so much. </span>
</p><p class="p2">He had been wandering the halls when the message appears.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>ZombieCleo starved to death.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It hadn’t been the most glorious death in the world. In fact, it seemed very out of character for Cleo to die in such a way. The redhead often didn’t go mining or exploring until she had set up at least a basic wheat farm to keep herself stocked with food. It wasn’t uncommon for her to still be in her ordinary clothing when everyone else had already acquired a full set of armour and tools, whereas she often stayed instead on the surface to farm her crops.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For Cleo to starve was almost unheard of, and he can’t help but think of the connotations of this knowledge. If Joe knew Cleo, and he did, food would have been the first thing she went after. With that knowledge in mind, Cleo wouldn’t have starved unless she either couldn’t find, or else did not have access to food.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was only so many places Joe could think of that wouldn’t have available sustenance. Anywhere with grass would have easy access to seeds in order to grow wheat. He supposed it could be possible that she hadn’t had access to wood, and by extension, the tools she needed to till the soil, but even then there were plenty of other available food sources. There were plenty of animals in grassy areas, and anywhere with trees had a possibility of producing apples. She could have spawned in a cave, but mineshafts often had chests containing bread, and even areas like desserts and badlands would spawn monsters at night, which often dropped things like spider eyes or rotten flesh that she could use in a pinch, although he imagined she might have a slight aversion to that last one. Even the Nether had access to pork from Hoglins, and the outer End islands would have chorus fruit, which would be annoying, but still food none-the-less.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He is mulling over the options when another message flashes across his screen.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Stressmonster101 was slain by Piglin.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Now </span> <span class="s2">that</span> <span class="s1"> death was a lot more open ended. There were Piglins all over the Nether, and the only piece of information this gives him was her dimension of origin. Stress could have been anywhere in the Nether.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Stressmonster101 was slain by Piglin Brute.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Well </span> <span class="s2"> <em>that</em> </span> <span class="s1"> certainly narrowed it down.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Piglin Brute’s could only spawn in one location, and that was a Bastion. Not that this information particularly did anything for Joe. As of right now, he had no way of getting to the Nether, not that he was particularly prepared for the trip anyway, but the information might at least help someone else who was in the same dimension.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Another message crosses his screen.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"><em>ZombieCleo was slain by Ender Dragon</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Joe blinks, staring down at his screen. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <em>The Ender Dragon.<br/></em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He takes off at a sprint down the halls.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3"> <b> <em>The Ender Dragon!!</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Of course! It all made sense now! It was only logical that Cleo would have no access to food on the main island. No wonder she had starved to death! She was literally fighting the dragon with her fists! It was really a wonder she hadn’t been slain before that.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">He knew this had been her sending a message. There was no way she would have lasted that long fighting the dragon only to die of </span> <span class="s2"> <em>starvation</em></span><span class="s1">, only to then be slain by the dragon 2 minutes later. She had effectively told him exactly where she was.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He turns the corner, finding the room he was looking for, catching the familiar glow of the lava off the stone walls of the structure. He runs into the portal room, slaying 3 Silverfish as he does, before climbing the stone steps to the alter.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And he stares through the frame to the lava pool on the other side. The portal wasn’t lit. And it only had 3 of the 12 eyes in place. His face falls. He might </span>
  <span class="s1">have been able to scrounge together enough ender pearls for the frame, but in order to craft the eyes he was going to need blaze powder.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">9 blaze powder.</span>
</p><p class="p1">There was no Blaze in the depths of a Stronghold. In fact, there were no Blaze within his <em>dimension</em>. To get the powder, he would need the rods, and to get the rods, he would need a Blaze, and to find a Blaze, he would need to go to the Nether. There was almost a kind of irony in that knowledge. Joe was in one dimension, Cleo was in another, and in order to get to her, he would need to go to a third. <br/><br/>He almost found a sort of humour in the situation. Was <em>that</em> why this was the worst spot for him? Because of Cleo? Because they’d known that separating them would undoubtedly hurt the most, and thus had been placed three dimensions apart? Was the sole purpose of placing him in a Stronghold merely to taunt him with the knowledge that he would never be able to reach her?</p><p class="p1">He supposed it was still <em>technically</em> possible. After all, getting to the Nether wasn’t the problem. Even without a Diamond pick, he could probably make the obsidian fairly easily. There was a fountain with water just 2 rooms over, and the portal room contained enough lava that, provided he could scrounge together the iron for a bucket, he wouldn’t have any trouble <em>making</em> the portal.</p><p class="p1">The problem would come once he actually got there. In order to find the blaze, he was going to have to locate a Nether fortress, which was something easier said than done. Nether Fortresses weren’t exactly <em>rare</em>, per say, they could spawn in any biome within the dimension, but depending on his luck, this could prove to be a more daunting task. He hardly expected to just stumble upon one the second he went through the portal, and depending on where he started, things could go south quickly. The Nether wasn’t exactly known for its pleasant atmosphere or cheery occupants, and Joe wasn’t exactly know for his fighting skills. Was it possible? Yes. But probable?</p><p class="p2"><span class="s1">He stares at the empty frame of the portal. He was </span> <span class="s2"> <em>so close</em> </span> <span class="s1">. He knew exactly where she was, and here he sat staring at the one device that could take him straight to her.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And it couldn’t be activated.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">He was </span> <em> <span class="s2">so </span> <span class="s3"> <b>close</b> </span> </em> <span class="s1">. And yet so very very far. </span></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Alright! So this was the last chapter that I had backlogged that was in the correct publishing order (because I don’t write things in order because I’m weird). I am still working on other chapters, but I will likely not be updating as quickly for the next month or so while I finish school. Just know it is still being worked on!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. GoodTimesWithScar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For those who haven’t seen, the ending of the last chapter was changed slightly because my brain was having a moment and I messed up the crafting recipe for Ender eyes, and this changed the last several or so paragraphs after he discovers the portal, but nothing major. </p><p>Also! For those asking about the wood of the shipwreck, I did test the breaking of wood under water without tools and can confirm that you start taking damage before the block is completely broken. According to the wiki, wood takes 15 seconds to break underwater without a tool, which is pretty much exactly how long a player can hold their breath before taking damage. Also not counting the time it takes to swim down to the ocean floor and then back to the surface again. I tested it in my own world, and you can technically break it and swim back to the surface with half a heart remaining, but I figured Scar would bail the second he started taking damage. (I do also test using the Bedrock edition though, so if any of this is different in Java I might have a few discrepancies)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So...”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Scar casts a fishing line towards the open water, the whirring cogs of the trawl letting out a high pitched </span> <span class="s2"> <em>reeeeee</em> </span> <span class="s1"> as it’s cast. The duo had happened across a fishing rod the day before, having commandeered the tool from one of the nearby drowned that occupied the area, and thus far, this singular rod had been their primary means of entertainment.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The lure lands with a <em>plop</em>, sinking below the water before floating back to the surface once more, the object marring the reflection of moonlight upon the watery facade as a series of echo-like ripples protrude from the area surrounding.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I somehow don’t think you thought this plan through.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I mean...” Scar scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “I thought it was a good idea at the time...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The high pitched screech of a Phantom can be heard somewhere above their heads, and Scar glances upwards nervously.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The pair currently sat beneath the roof of their makeshift shack, the decrepit looking structure looking very much akin to a mass of mud pie that had been sculpted by the hands of a 5 year old in the rain, having then sat upon the porch for days and dried to become the mess of crusty dirt that it now was. The structure itself consisted of at least 3 different kind of blocks, with sand and gravel interspersed haphazardly throughout the walls, and an ordinary dirt ceiling; dirt being the only other block in their possession that didn’t contain gravity mechanics. The walls themselves weren’t even particularly square, sitting on a sort of lopsided curve of support beams that looked to be on the verge of collapse.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In their defence, night had been approaching fast, and with both members now having gone the obligatory three nights without sleep, that meant that Phantoms would start to spawn - The decrepit structure of a dirt shack had been their last ditch effort to construct a scrap of shelter before the mobs spawned. And he wouldn’t lie, it wasn’t pretty. In fact, their sad excuse of a shelter would have been considered ugly even by normal standards, but considering who had made it, the building was downright pathetic. Was it pretty? No. But functional? Debatable.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“As a man that spent 2 days swimming through the Ocean with zero resources, I think you might have overlooked one </span> <span class="s2"><em>tiny</em></span> <span class="s1"> detail.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I mean, you agreed with me!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And I should not be held accountable for my decisions when I spent the last day and a half deprived of oxygen!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A Phantom makes a dive towards the structure, and Bdubs ducks instinctively, the creature moving past the opening in the wall before flying back into the sky. On the other side of their structure, Scar starts to sweat nervously.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“...I may have gotten a bit ahead of myself.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ya think?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The fishing lure dips beneath the surface and Scar reals it in, on the end of which now dangling a single pair of leather boots, the laces strung together in a series of intricate knots, and both positively filled to the brim with water.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Scar turns towards Bdubs, offering a sheepish sort of smile as he holds the commodity aloft, water dripping heavily from the soaked leather, and a single strand of seaweed caught between the laces.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Want some old boots?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My turn with the rod.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Scar hands over the tool wordlessly, the sun just starting to peak across the horizon, and the lure lands amongst the waves with a prominent <em>plop</em>. Scar turns, staring down into the depths of Ocean below, and a single cod swims idly beneath the base of their platform.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I mean, the plan isn’t entirely ruined right? We known the coordinates, so we just need one of us to stay here while the other goes out to collect resources.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bdubs gives the rod a prominent yank, pulling the line from the water and revealing the flopping form of a fish now suspended from the end of the hook.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Perfect. So you stay here while I go get stuff.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Actually I think you should stay and I should go.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bdubs looks over at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why do you get to go?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Because I won’t be able to do anything if you leave and I’m stuck with all these Guardian’s around.” Scar reasons. “But </span> <span class="s2"> <em>you</em> </span> <span class="s1"> however, your spawn is set here, so if you die you won’t have to swim across the entire Ocean for days just to get back.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And what if you don’t find land before the day’s over? How are you going to deal with all the phantoms?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A beat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“...hope I find land before they spawn?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right. Great. Fantastic. Solid plan.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Scar sighs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright, fine. Once I get far enough away from the Monument, I’ll get rid of this mining fatigue. Then I can dive down and collect blocks all I want. If it gets close to night time, I’ll just make another platform and wait it out. Simple.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ok, and what am I supposed to do?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Scar shrugs. “I mean, firstly you’ll probably wanna get rid of those Elder Guardians, but I mean you build stuff, right? You can always start making a base.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“...a base...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah.” Scar nods. Bdubs blinks.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“...you want me...to make a </span> <span class="s2">base</span> <span class="s1">...”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Umm...yeah?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bdubs turns around completely now, angling his whole body so that he is now fully facing Scar.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“</span> <em> <span class="s2">Out of </span> <span class="s3"> <b>what</b> </span> </em> <span class="s1"><em>?</em>”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I mean, there’s stuff around. You’ve got some sand, gravel, dirt-“ Bdubs cuts him off.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And what am I supposed to do with sand, gravel, and dirt?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Say’s the man that makes castles out of diorite.” Scar counters.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“It’s not </span> <span class="s2"> <em>just</em> </span> <span class="s1"> diorite!” He fumbles. “I can’t just...</span> <span class="s2"> <em>build</em> </span> <span class="s1"> things! You need a block palette!”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I just gave you one! Sand, gravel, dirt. Block palette.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bdubs looks over at him as if thoroughly disturbed by the suggestion.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“You want me to make a house...out of </span> <span class="s2"> <em>sand, gravel, and dirt</em> </span> <span class="s1">.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The sun makes its ascension across the horizon and the remaining phantoms screech loudly as they are burnt by its rays. Scar pokes his head from the relative shelter of their hut, slinging his feet across the side of the platform, and submerging them in the cool water of the Ocean.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Think of it as like a fun little challenge.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bdubs watches as Scar slides his body into the frigid sea once more, taking care to avoid any signs of approaching Guardians, as his hand clings to the side of the platform.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Scar...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Scar is already leaving, the man moving to swim away from the scene as he calls back towards his companion.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sure you’ll come up with something!”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Stressmonster101</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Another warning for slight bits of blood, but she is still fine!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her singular golden chest plate hadn’t particularly lasted long with the Piglin Brute around. She had attempted to collect it after the first time the creature had attacked, but after being slain another 4 times on her quest for its retrieval, she had eventually given up, and the commodity had despawned.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Stressmonster101 was slain by Piglin Brute.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Stressmonster101 was slain by Piglin Brute.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This is the cycle that continues, the creature having now found its way into her spawn chamber, and she barely even had enough time to take a step forward before it has converged upon her again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Stressmonster101 was slain by Piglin Brute.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Stressmonster101 was slain by Piglin Brute.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She was sure that her friends must have been about ready to chuck their communicators across the room in frustration at the constant stream of death messages.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The creature had killed her 5 times before she even thought about fighting back, and even then she had died another 2 before she had mustered enough courage to actually hit it. She of course had dealt with the normal Piglins before, she had died more than once to the swarms of creatures that lurked within the ruinous corridors of her Bastion, and she had even managed to kill the last one before the Brute had discovered her. Mind you, she had taken it running, kicking and screaming as she had tried to just avoid it altogether, but the important part was that it had died in the end. But these were different. The Piglin Brutes were on a whole other level compared to the traditional sort.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">For starters, they hit like a <em>truck</em>. Brutes dealt almost twice the amount of damage that a normal Piglin would, which meant that getting hit by one hurt </span> <span class="s2"> <em>a lot</em> </span> <span class="s1"> more. And they couldn’t be tempered. They didn’t get distracted by gold or become pacified by the armour variant, meaning that even if she </span> <span class="s2"> <em>did</em> </span> <span class="s1"> somehow manage to get her hands on another piece of armour, there was still no guarantee that she would be completely safe. And really, she felt “completely safe” was a term that should not have been applied to the Nether anyway. Not when the rest of the dimension was filled with Ghasts and Blazeand all other manner of hostile creatures that wanted to eat her face. This was just the first step, she reminds herself. The rest of the Nether would have a completely different set of challenges thrown her way, and she didn’t even want to </span> <span class="s2"> <em>think</em> </span> <span class="s1"> about how she was going to tackle those.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She looks back over her shoulder to the still approaching Piglin behind her, continuing to sprint up the nearest staircase as she tries to escape. But this had been a mistake. The momentary lapse of directional attention is enough to cause her to stumble over her feet as she runs, wobbling slightly as she struggles to find her footing again. The little slip up hadn’t been enough to cause her to fall over completely, but it’s just enough so that it takes her a second to regain her balance - a second that allows the creature to catch up to her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She cries out as she feels the blade of the axe slice through the material of her shirt, making blunt contact with the side of her stomach, and the fabric of clothing around the area immediately turns to a deep red.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The overall weight and force behind the strike is enough to knock her forward several feet, smashing her roughly against the wall of the structure, and she collapses to the floor. Her hand immediately moves to clutch at the wound on her abdomen, feeling the sticky wetness of blood that coated the area, even as the wound itself is already starting to close beneath her fingertips. Regen might have still been a thing, but that didn’t mean the blow had hurt any less.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">But she doesn’t have time to catch her breath, the Brute still fast approaching. She rolls out of the way just in time for the axe to come down again, the metal blade hitting the floor beside her with a prominent </span> <span class="s3"> <b> <em> <span class="u">CLANG</span> </em> </b> </span> <span class="s1">, and she quickly scrambles to her feet, resuming her running.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">What she needed was a weapon. </span> <span class="s2"> <em>Any</em> </span> <span class="s1"> weapon. Stress had never been one to condone violence, but this bit of running for her life wasn’t cutting it anymore, and she could only do so much damage with her fists.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She turns the corner, now finding herself on the exposed vicinity of the bridge. There’s 3 chests stationed there, spaced roughly 3 blocks apart, and without another Piglin in sight, she goes straight for them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Please have a sword, please have a sword, please have a sword...</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She opens the first chest, immediately pocketing its contents. There’s several golden nuggets, a loadstone, and a pair of enchanted golden boots, which she immediately steps into. But no sword.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>SHI-!!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She jumps back swiftly, the Brute converging upon her again, and the axe strikes down hard against the floor space between the first and second chest. The echoing clang of the impact reverberates loudly throughout the exposed room, and there is definitely no way that the other occupants hadn’t been alerted to the sound.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She runs the length of the bridge, doubling back again once she has obtained a fair distance from the creature, and then she goes for the second chest.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">Sword, sword, sword, sword...</span> <span class="s4"> <b>yes</b> </span> <span class="s2">!</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Piglin converges upon her again, only this time when it brings its axe down, the weapon is stopped short with a loud clang of steel, and Stress swiftly blocks the blow with a sword. She pushes back against the axe, using both hands to shove at the blade of her weapon and propel the Piglin backwards, and she gets a solid hit on the creature.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The pig lets out a squeal of rage, and she immediately backs up, narrowly avoiding another swing of the axe as she once again takes off at a sprint across the room. She turns again, the axe descending through the air once more, and she once again blocks the blow with her sword, the impact of the strike causing the metal to vibrate along the blade, and she hits it again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She makes as if to approach the last remaining chest, but as her hand reaches for its latch, a single arrow descends through the air, striking her between her shoulder and collarbone, and she lets out a yelp of pain. She turns to see a pack of Piglins now converging upon them, hoards of them approaching from all directions as they flow into the room through countless doors and crevices. She narrowly manages to dodge another sweep of the Brutes axe, and another arrow descends from above, striking her in the back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Time to go.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She gets another hit on the Brute, and then she bolts, running down the length of the bridge as arrows continued to fly past her head, the large pack of Piglins now locked firmly upon her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Stressmonster101 has just earned the achievement <b>[Oooh, shiny!]</b></em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She throws whatever golden nuggets were currently in her possession to the ground, hoping to at least distract a few of them. But it’s a dead end. The bridge cuts off roughly, and then there is nothing. At least, nothing she can see from this angle, she wasn’t close enough to tell. But she also couldn’t particularly turn around either.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She was going to have to jump. That was her only hope of survival. If any of the Piglins caught up to her, she would surly be killed and have to start all over, and she would have no hope of recovering whatever small quantity of items were currently in her possession with this many of the creatures around. Of course, if she fell to her death she would be no better off, but she didn’t have time to weigh the pros and cons of her decisions. Right now, the only thing that mattered was that there was 2 options. Stay or jump. She could die either way, but if she jumped there was a chance of survival. A small chance, mind you, but it was a chance none the less. And right now, she wanted to live.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She approaches the end of the bridge, running at full speed, and with arrows raining down upon her, she takes a deep breath, closing her eyes as she blindly leaps from bridge.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then she’s falling. Down, down into the abyss, and she can’t look. She won’t. If she was headed straight for a lake of lava, or else was going to land with a splat against the surface below, breaking every bone in her body, she didn’t want to know. But it’s too far. She’s been falling for too long, and she knows there’s no way she survives this. This was it. There was nothing to be done now, she had already jumped. And with nothing left to do, she closes her eyes tighter, bracing for the inevitable impact.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then she hits the ground, her legs immediately giving out beneath her, and she falls back against the surface with a thunk.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Oh Hell...</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She groans painfully, wincing as she finally pries her eyes open, looking up at her surroundings.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Well, she wasn’t dead, which she was going to take as a positive. But she </span> <span class="s2"> <em>was</em> </span> <span class="s1">, however, in excruciating pain, and it takes her a moment to regen enough before she can prop herself into a sitting position. She groans, wincing again as her hand moves to cradle her throbbing head, the pain in the rest of her body very slowly beginning to dissipate with each passing second.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She glances upwards, looking towards the form of the Piglins still stood atop the bridge, the creatures both out of firing range as well as unwilling to chase after her. The fall had been quite a drop, much farther than should have been physically possible to survive. And yet here she was. How?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then she remembers the boots. She glances down to see the purple glow emanating from the armour, and she stoops closer to inspect them. She smiles.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Feather Falling.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">Well </span> <span class="s4"> <b>that</b> </span> <span class="s2"> was lucky.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She supposed it was a good thing she had decided to loot the chests. Mind you, she had still missed out on one, but seeing as the boots had allowed her to escape the structure, she wasn’t inclined to complain. But what of the second chest? She had taken all of its contents, but she hadn’t really been bothered to pay attention to what she had actually collected. She had been so focused on finding a sword that once she’d found one, she had completely ignored the rest of the contents. So what else did she have?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She scrounges through the pockets of her jacket, pulling out a few iron nuggets, the gold variations having promptly been lost in her escape from the bastion. There’s a few bits of string, a couple of magma creams, and a single cooked pork chop, which would at least tide her over until she could find some more food, but she finds nothing else.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Until she makes to stand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She feels something hard brush against her leg, and she glances down to see a single Diamond pickaxe slung through the belt loop of her shorts, the commodity probably managing to get itself stuck there in her escape. She reaches for the object with a grin.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Well, that’s certainly going to come in handy.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Having taken full inventory, she once again makes as if to stand. This was only the beginning, she reminds herself. The Bastion might have been difficult, but this was just the first step in the long journey ahead.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She makes to take a step forward, immediately wincing at the ache in her thighs, and her leg muscles convulse beneath her. She had been doing nothing but run since she had started, and right now, her legs felt like jelly. She promptly sits back down again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Ya know, I think I’m just gonna stay here for a minute... </em> </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Cubfan135</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So I did NOT intend for this chapter to be this long, but here we are. This chapter and I are also not particularly friends, it was a bit of a pain to write, but I also don’t really want to look at it any more 😅. A brief warning for people squeamish about boils and burns or fire in general, because there is a bit of that, but no permanent damage and he will be fine.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em> <span class="u">BOOM!</span> </em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Cub is immediately blasted backwards as a fireball lands at his feet. He doesn’t even have time to react, the explosion already sending him flying through the air, and he hits the ground hard, landing roughly on his backside.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">And then he’s on fire. The orange flames setting his lab coat ablaze as the fire sears through the fabric. He immediately pats himself down, smothering the flames that licked at the outer layers of clothing, the still smouldering material having burnt away just enough to reveal the marred skin of reddish welts and boils that had been left in its wake, already fading into a dull pink.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">But it doesn’t stop there. He hadn’t been paying enough attention, the initial blow having caught him completely by surprise, and he hadn’t yet recovered from the original attack before another is already headed his way.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3"> <b> <em>SCREEEEEEEEEEEE</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">A tell-tale screech pierces his ears. Then another. And another. And still lying sprawled upon the ground, Cub looks up just in time to see another fireball headed straight for him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Cubfan135 was blown up by Ghast.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Ah...that probably wasn’t the best of starts...</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He starts again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3"> <b> <em>SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">This time when he hears the screech, he hits the floor, more prepared for the ensuing fireballs, and he immediately covers his head with his arms.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em> <span class="u">BOOM!</span> </em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The Ghast ball lands just to his left, the ensuing blast creating a sea of flame that erupts from the crash site, and he once again feels the sensation of being on fire. He coughs loudly as the smoke reaches his lungs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3"> <b> <em>SCREEEEEEEEEEEEE</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">A second blast arrives, but he’s too slow, the ball hitting him square in the chest, and he is blasted backwards several feet, hitting the ground with an oomph. He groans.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Right. Lesson one: keep moving.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Another screech pieces his ears, and he makes as if to dodge, but somethings wrong. He had moved to take a step forward, but his foot felt like lead, almost as if his legs were submerged in a thick tar, and the unexpected lack of movement is enough to cause him to lose his balance completely, and he topples forward.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em> <span class="u">BOOM!</span> </em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The fireball explodes behind him this time, just far enough away that he had escaped the blast radius, and he pushes his body from the ground, spitting out the mouthful of dirt he had taken from the fall.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">It’s now that he really begins to notice his surroundings. He was most definitely in the Nether, if the plethora of Ghasts were any sort of indicator. And it was </span> <span class="s4"> <em>hot</em> </span> <span class="s2">. Uncomfortably so, and Cub was not exactly what one would call a stranger to the heat. After all, he had lived for quite some time in the middle of the <em>desert</em>, roasting under the scorching sun where the blistering swelter had rendered the environment barren to all forms of life except the cactus. But this was different. There was no sun, but this was somehow worse. In fact, he didn’t even particularly see any lava around. The heat was just everywhere, all around him, as if it were emanating from the very air he breathed, and he briefly wonders if this is what it feels like to be boiled in a pot on the stove. A bead of sweat drips from his brow, the single water droplet evaporating into thin air before it can even reach the ground.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">But the atmosphere felt wrong. Contrary to the typical image conjured of red fire and brimstone that usually accompanied the Nether, his own environment seemed exactly the opposite. In fact, the overall atmosphere was almost blue, with thick clouds of cyan that hung in the air like a carpet of fog, an almost gentle sort of rain of black ash falling gracefully from the sky, tumbling downward as if a thousand feathers swaying in a breeze. He rakes his fingers through the soil beneath him. The sand felt almost cool, once again contrasting harshly with the scorching calidity of the air, and he wonders if it is in fact actually cold or just by comparison. But it’s </span> <span class="s4"> <em>thick</em></span><span class="s2">. The sand felt almost heavy, as if each individual grain were comprised of lead, and his hand almost sinks into the material, drawn downward by some unknown force like a magnetic pull. </span> <span class="s4"> <em>Soul sand</em> </span> <span class="s2">. He must have been in a Soul Sand Valley.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>...a Soul Sand Valley.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">His head snaps up abruptly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3"> <em> <b>SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE</b> </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Crap.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Cubfan135 was blown up by Ghast.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">This wasn’t the best news Cub could have received that that particular moment. The Nether in and of itself was not a particularly easy location to navigate. The other biomes of course all had their dangers. Basalt deltas were nothing more than a desolate wasteland of stone and fire, with Magma Cubes around every corner. Crimson forests would spawn all manner of hoglins that were near impossible to take down empty handed, especially considering they tended to spawn in packs or herds or whatever the correct terminology was. Warped forests might have looked pretty, and they were relatively low on the side of hostile creatures considering the dimension of origin, but there was no food there, and even starting in one of those biomes would have been nothing more than an infinite loop of starvation. The Nether itself was just not a nice place to be.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">But the Soul Sand Valley was probably the worst of them all. There was no trees or food, and sure it might have been the one location that was relatively lacking in the features the Nether was typically known for, lava for instance, but it more than made up for this fact with mobs. Soul Sand Valleys spawned exclusively 2 different mobs, which in the grand scheme of things might not have seemed like a lot, and really it might not have been too difficult to handle had said mobs been </span> <span class="s4"> <em>literally anything else</em></span><span class="s2">. With maybe the exception of the Ender Dragon. Or the Wither. Or maybe some blaze. The point was it was difficult.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">Really, it was only the one particular mob that concerned him. Skeletons were not </span> <span class="s4">overly</span> <span class="s2"> difficult, but that could be said with a grain of salt. They were one of the few Overworld type mobs that could attack from a distance, but even then, they didn’t deal </span> <span class="s4">too</span> <span class="s2"> much damage. But Ghasts, on the other hand, were more than a little bit annoying. Particularly when they tended to rain fireballs from the heavens as if intent on bringing about the apocalypse. And they just didn’t go away, <em>especially</em> in Soul Sand Valleys. There was a lot of available spawning space in the Nether, and when only 2 different mobs could spawn, that meant there was an </span> <span class="s4"> <em>abundance</em> </span> <span class="s2"> of Ghasts.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The only saving grace with these particular mobs was their health. Two hits of an arrow was all it took to do them in, and Cub happened to be one of the better shots with a bow.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3"> <em> <b>SCREEEEEEEEEEEE</b> </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">A bow, which, as of this moment, he did not possess. He ducks out of the way.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em> <span class="u">BOOM!</span> </em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3"> <b> <em>SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He cracks his neck, facing the creature this time, and he watches the ball closely as it approaches, counting down the seconds until impact.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Three. Two. One.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He hits it back towards the Ghast.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s4">Cubfan135 has just made the advancement </span> <span class="s3"> <b>[Return to Sender]</b> </span> <span class="s4">. </span> </em>
</p><p class="p2">Cub sighs.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Ping!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The sound of his communicator startles him out of the moment, and he pulls the device from his pocket, looking down at its screen.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Stressmonster101 was slain by Piglin Brute.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3"> <em> <b>SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE</b> </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Oh no...</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Cub leaps to the side, hitting the ground roughly as another fireball whizzes by above him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em> <b> <span class="u">BOOM!!</span> </b> </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Ping!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Cubs looks at his communicator again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Xisuma tried to swim in lava.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Ping!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>ZombieCleo fell from a high place.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He blinks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Dang, looks like everyone’s dying today.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3"> <em> <b>SCREEEEEEEEEEEE</b> </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Including me, shi-!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em> <b> <span class="u">BOOM!!</span> </b> </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Ping!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Stressmonster101 was slain by Piglin Brute.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He shakes his head. He needed to focus. He could deal with the Ghasts easily if he could just get his hands on a bow. He supposed that simply hitting back the fireballs would suffice. After all, their own blasts would kill them with a single blow, but his precision was also much less accurate, and he had significantly less control over an airborne fireball compared to an arrow he could shoot himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">As if on cue, an arrow descends from above, striking him in the shoulder, and a skeleton appears in his line of vision. He blinks. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Well, that works. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em> <b>SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE</b> </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Ping!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Xisuma tried to swim in lava. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3">He ducks as another Ghast ball heads towards him, crouching his way along the ground as he makes his way over to the skeleton, doing his best to avoid the string of arrows headed his way.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <b> <span class="u"> <em>BOOM!</em> </span> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The fireball lands just behind him, the blast launching him forward, and he lands at the feet of the skeleton. An arrow strikes him in the back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Ping!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Stressmonster101 was slain by Piglin Brute.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Not wasting any time, he immediately climbs to his feet, striking the mob repeatedly as he continued to dodge around the arrows. One hit. Two hits. 4 hits, 5. 8 hits, and then it’s down, falling dramatically to the ground where it’s remains evaporate into a puff of smoke, and he walks forward to claim his prize. 2 arrows, and a couple of bones. But no bow.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Crap.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Ping!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s3"> <em> <b>SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE</b> </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em> <b> <span class="u">BOOM!</span> </b> </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Xisuma tried to swim in lava.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Cub blinks down at his communicator.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Dang X, you alright there bud?</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">It wasn’t at all like Xisuma to die so frequently. To an extent, he understood Stress, knowing that she, like him, was stuck in the Nether, having seen the manner of her death. And knowing Stress, her disdain for just the common monsters as well as her general contempt with the dimension as a whole, he had given her a pass. Xisuma, on the other hand, was a different story.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">X, of course, was not immune to death, his title of admin did not somehow grant him this privilege. He often fell victim to its clutches, just like the rest of them, but this somehow felt strange. If Xisuma was anything, it was smart, and while he was not immune to the occasional derpiness that came with the loss of their community wide collective brain cell, he often did not make the same mistake twice. And certainly not three times. And for him to die from swimming in </span> <span class="s4"> <em>lava</em> </span> <span class="s2">? As if he hadn’t been perfectly fine for the entire first half of the game? X could be a derp, yes, but for him to die so frequently in the same manner in such a short frame of time was almost unheard of. Unless his spawn had somehow been destroyed since the start, Cub couldn’t imagine that these deaths had been accidental.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <b> <em>SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He tries to hit the blast back towards the creature, but he can’t aim, and the fireball veers to the right.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em> <b> <span class="u">BOOM!</span> </b> </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Ping!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Stressmonster101 was slain by Piglin Brute.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He continues on in this fashion for quite some time, continuing to doge around Ghast balls and arrows and generally doing his best to just ignore the constant stream of death messages all together. A task which, given the circumstances, he felt he had been handling rather well.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Until the messages became more frequent.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Ping! Ping!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em> <b>SCREEEEEEEEEEE</b> </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em> <b> <span class="u">BOOM!</span> </b> </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Ping!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Xisuma tried to swim in lava.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Stressmonster101 was slain by Piglin Brute.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">Cub dodges an arrow, just barely missing it as it grazes by his arm. This was becoming increasingly more difficult. He had been having a hard enough time dodging Ghast balls and arrows and just staying alive in general. Don’t get him wrong. Given the circumstances, he thought he was actually faring pretty well. He had procured nearly half a stack of bones, 17 arrows, and a few bits of gunpowder. But no bow. And it was becoming increasingly more difficult to concentrate when the constant stream of noise was threatening to drive him </span> <span class="s4"> <em>insane</em> </span> <span class="s2">.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em> <b>SCREEEEEEEEEEEEE</b> </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Ping!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em> <b> <span class="u">BOOM!</span> </b> </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">This was the soundtrack of his life. Over and over. Stressmonster was slain, Xisuma tried to swim in lava.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em> <b>SCREEEEEEEEE</b> </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Ping!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em> <b> <span class="u">BOOM!</span> </b> </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He dodges another blast before he spots another skeleton, and he makes his way over towards it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em> <b>SCREEEEEEEEEEEE</b> </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Ping!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em> <b> <span class="u">BOOM!!</span> </b> </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em> <b>SCREEEEEEEEEE</b> </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He once again tries to hit back the blast. It once again veers off course.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <b> <em> <span class="u">BOOM!</span> </em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He hits the skeleton, once, twice, failing to dodge an arrow that lodges itself into his shoulder blade, and he winces. Three times. Four.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Just a few more...</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">The Skeleton topples, vanishing into the air, and it finally, </span> <span class="s4"> <em>finally</em> </span> <span class="s2">, drops a bow. He grins widely.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Oh you’re in trouble now.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He bends down to grab the weapon, immediately stringing an arrow through the nocking point, and in one swift movement he pulls up and shoots.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The arrow strikes the Ghast square between the eyes, and it lets out a wail of rage, its mouth glowing red as if poised to throw another fireball, but Cub is too quick. He’s already restrung another arrow, and then it’s flying through the air, it too hitting its mark, and the Ghast collapses sideways, disappearing in a puff of smoke. He cracks his neck.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Right. Lets have some fun.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He fires a string of arrows left and right, taking out Ghasts and Skeletons alike in a flurry of movement with all the speed and skill of a master archer. This was <em>so</em> much better than hitting back the dang fireballs. He had so much more control over his arrows, and eventually he has cleared the area of all but one Ghast.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He holds the bow in his hands, knocking another arrow. He breathes in, staring straight up the shaft as he aims towards the beast. This was it. This was the last one, and while this in no way would stop them from spawning, he might at least cover a bit of distance before he had to deal with them again. He breathes out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>I swear to god, I swear to god, I swear to god...</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Three. Two. One—</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Ping!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em> <b>SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE</b> </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He releases the arrow, but it’s too late. His concentration had been lost, and the arrow flies wildly off course.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Shit.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em> <b> <span class="u">BOOM!!</span> </b> </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Xisuma tried to swim in lava.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Cub sighs. He goes to reach for another arrow, but his hand grabs blindly at the air. He was out of ammo.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“<em>Oh come on.</em>”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <b> <em>SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <b> <em> <span class="u">BOOM!</span> </em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The blast hits him in the chest, and he is knocked backwards as his lab coat once again catches on fire. He groans.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Right. Nope. We’re done with this.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He ducks out of the way of another incoming Ghast ball, and then he starts to dig down, plonking himself in the hole before covering up the exit. He hears the explosion go off somewhere above him, muffled by the layer of sand above his head, but then it stops, and there is silence.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s4"> <em>Finally</em></span>
  <span class="s2">.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">He collapses to the floor, leaning his head back against the wall in exhaustion. He immediately submerges his hands into the gravely floor, allowing them to sink into the material as they are drawn downwards, and he sighs deeply as the cool grains of sand begin to sooth his burns and welts. Logically speaking, he knew it wouldn’t actually heal them. Soul sand did not have any generic healing properties, but the coolish feel is enough to cause the pain to subside, even if only for a moment, and it would at least mean that his wait for regeneration would not be one of overly discomfort. </span>He waits a moment longer before pulling his hands from the ground, now boil and welt free, perfectly healed and pristine as if the skin in fact had never been disturbed. </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The cave felt much cooler than the above terrain, and he rests his cheek against the wall, the cool sand slowly drawing the heat from his flushed skin. He breathes deeply. The air smelled odd. Almost musty. Like the sodden dirt after a rain storm, but then, that was ridiculous. There was no water in the Nether, and he ponders upon the qualities of the sand that caused it to defy its home dimension.<br/></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He should have been relatively safe here. Neither mob that spawned within this particular biome could move blocks, and provided that a skeleton didn’t spawn in his little makeshift cave, he figured he would be relatively safe underground.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Ping!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Xisuma tried to swim in lava.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Cub looks at his communicator. He hadn’t seen a death message from Stress in a while, not that he had been paying overly much attention while being bombarded with Ghasts and arrows, but he hoped that this lack of messages had somehow meant she had gotten out of immediate danger. But Xisuma had persisted throughout.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Now that he had a moment to think, Cub goes back through Xisuma’s messages. It was always the same. Always to lava. Never a mob or any other form of mechanic. Just lava. But the time intervals had changed. The messages had still been relatively close together, but there were gaps. Stress had died three times here before X had made his regular rounds, but down lower Xisuma had died twice before her. If he were to pull out a stopwatch, he didn’t think he would see any particular pattern. Not that he had a stopwatch to pull out, but the lack of pattern was enough to suggest a delay. Stress had been slain by a Piglin Brute, which meant she was likely running, or at the very least moving when it had killed her. This was enough to account for the delay there, after all fighting mobs could be unpredictable.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">But Xisuma had died to lava. Just lava. Repeatedly. The delay here was enough to suggest that he at least wasn’t stuck in some death loop - he must have still had at least a block to spawn on, but if he had been pushed in by a mob, surly at least </span> <span class="s4"> <em>one</em> </span> <span class="s2"> of his death messages would be different. But they hadn’t been. It was <em>just</em> lava. The delay had ruled out the death loop, and the singular brand of death message had ruled out the involvement of mobs. Which left only one suggestion: he had been jumping into lava on purpose.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Ping!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Xisuma tried to swim in lava.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Cub looks at the message.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>X, what are you up to?</em> </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Rendog</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Unlike most people, Ren was not particularly worried about his starting location. He knew he hadn’t started in the worst spot, not by a long shot. Sure the End was cold, and vast, and was just generally an uncomfortable environment to be in, but his particular starting point was in no way uninhabitable. There was plenty of chorus fruit, so he at least wouldn’t starve. Sure, there might not have been any trees, and by extension wood, which meant he wouldn’t be able to craft any tools, and yeah, maybe he did have a <em>bit</em> of a habit of accidentally looking at the Enderman, but he himself had spawned relatively close to a fairly sizeable End City, which meant there would at least be some loot. And shulkers meant shulker boxes, provided of course he could get back to the Overworld to procure a crafting table. Really, there was enough supplies that he should have been golden. He wasn’t worried about his current location.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was leaving that concerned him.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Logically speaking, he knew he couldn’t stay there forever. In order to find the rest of his friends, he was going to need to leave the End, or else risk having a <em>long</em> wait ahead of him as the rest of the Hermits geared up for the trip over. And that could take a </span> <span class="s2"> <em>while</em></span><span class="s1">. But even then, he would still need to return to the main island eventually, he didn’t suppose people would find him as easily if he was off in the middle of nowhere. And Cleo was there, probably starving half to death again due to the lack of food that didn’t grow on her island - he’d made sure to stock up on extra chorus fruit for the trip over. But the dragon was concerning.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He stares through the small gateway of a portal in front of him. A large confinement of stars packed into a small, singular space, and their light suspended there as if trapped within its confines, as if the very portal itself were some kind of reverse black hole. He looks to the void around him, the infinite blackness that stretched on for all eternity, and then back to the portal. Or maybe he was already in one, the gateway merely his window as he stared up from its depths to the cosmos above, and beyond he would find a billion galaxies of swirling stars and comets that would stretch infinitely across all space and time. The image before him is both beautiful and haunting, and he twists his ender pearl around nervously in his hand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t the lack of gear that concerned him. He had finished looting the city ages ago, finding all sorts of useful gear and tools within their walls, and he had spent the last half an hour simply scrounging together some chorus fruit for the journey. He knew Cleo was there now, and he knew she would have literally nothing. No armour, no weapons, no food. Honestly, he was much better off.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The problem was death. Even fully geared up, there was no guarantee he would be safe. Dragon fights were vastly unpredictable, and he knew that even the strongest of warriors with enchanted armour and a full arsenal of weapons at their disposal were not safe. The Dragon had taken out much more fearsome prey than he, but dying at this stage in the game could be fatal. Not in the literal sense, but if he were to die to the dragon now, he would be sent straight back to spawn, which he supposed wasn’t overly far, considering the portal, but there was no guarantee he would be able to salvage his things if he got unlucky with procuring another ender pearl.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He takes a breath, staring down into the glassy depths of starlight before him. It was now or never he supposed. He had put off the journey for long enough, and with a flick of his wrist he tosses the pearl into the gateway.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>zoOop!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He lands in the main End chamber, being sure to bend his knees as he touches down, and then there is silence.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Cleo?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s no answer. He climbs the makeshift stone steps of the chamber where he finally emerges to the surface of the main island. It was so...quiet. He glances upwards towards the obsidian pillars, now just large empty towers of nearly unbreakable stone. The crystals were gone.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">An enderman walks past, and he quickly lowers his gaze. He grabs for his communicator. He hadn’t seen any dragon related advancements cross his screen, but he also didn’t particularly see the beast in view. Cleo would have gotten an achievement if she had slain the creature before he got there, so it must still be alive. But then where was-</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">“Get </span> <span class="s3"> <b><span class="u">DOWN!!!</span></b></span><span class="s4">”</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">A force like a freight train ploughs into his back, and he crashes towards the ground roughly, his chest making contact with the hard stone floor mere </span> <span class="s2"> <em>seconds</em> </span> <span class="s1"> before a purple fireball wizzes by just inches above his head.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The weight against him is removed a second later, and he feels someone stand behind him. He turns just enough to see the form of Cleo, hair looking very much akin to that of a tangled mess of a lions mane, and the woman panting heavily with exertion.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Well don’t just </span> <span class="s2"> <em>sit</em> </span> <span class="s1"> there!! </span> <span class="s4"> <b> <em>RUN!!</em></b></span><span class="s1">”</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Ren didn’t need to be told twice.</span> <span class="s1">He quickly scrambles to his feet, and before long he is running right alongside her, the dragon following close after.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So what’s the plan, chief?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’re doing it!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ok, and what is it exactly that we’re doing?” The dragon growls loudly from somewhere in behind them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“</span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>RUNNING</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“...Care to elaborate a little?” The dragon lets out another screech, louder this time, and far more angry than the last. Ren gulps. “Or ya know, maybe just the Cole’s Notes version?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Just keep moving! Aside from that, the plan mostly involves </span> <em> <span class="s2">not </span> <span class="s4"> <b>dying</b>.</span></em><span class="s1">”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The dragon releases a spray of purple fire, and Cleo quickly knocks him out of the way of the ongoing blast. Ren falls to the ground a few feet from the portal, and the dragon heads for the centre. “Good plan. Not dying is good. We like that plan.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Not wasting a single second, Cleo quickly follows after the beast, chasing it to where it had come to nest, where she begins to positively </span> <span class="s2"> <em>wail</em> </span> <span class="s1"> on it.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Ren blinks, looking on at the odd sight before him. “...are you </span> <span class="s2"> <em>punching</em> </span> <span class="s1"> the dragon to death right now, my dude?”</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Cleo grunts, continuing to get in as many hits as she could. “Don’t exactly have </span> <span class="s2"> <em>literally</em> </span> <span class="s1"> any tools.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh! I’ve got a sword in an ender chest! I can just-“</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“</span><span class="s2"><em>NO!!</em> </span> <span class="s1"> Don’t move!” Ren freezes mid movement, looking towards the woman quizzically. “Don’t you dare place anything this close to the centre! She’ll have it destroyed in seconds. We can’t afford to lose any resources!”</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“So, what, you’re just going to </span> <span class="s2"> <em>punch</em> </span> <span class="s1"> it to death?”</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Cleo swiftly dodges a bought of purple flame in a flurry of movement, performing the maneuver with the grace and agility of a practiced assassin, despite the reality that Cleo herself had never particularly </span> <span class="s2"> <em>studied</em> </span> <span class="s1"> any sort of refined martial art. “</span><span class="s2"><em>YES</em>!</span><span class="s1">”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“</span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>Wicked.</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Cleo grunts again, resuming her punching technique as the dragon continues to flap wildly above her. “Yeah yeah, we get it, Cleo’s a badass. </span> <em> <span class="s2">You could </span> <span class="s4"> <b>help</b> </span> </em> <span class="s2"><em> you know!</em>”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“</span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>You told me not to move!</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Ren doesn’t get the chance. Because 2 seconds later, the dragon has taken off into the sky once again, and Cleo swiftly jumps out of the way, much less gracefully this time, and plows rather unceremoniously into his sitting form, knocking them both back to the ground.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo shifts mere moments later, pushing herself from him, and moving into a sitting position a few feet away. She groans, wincing in pain as she rubs the back of her neck with her hand, as if the movement will remove the stiffness from her aching limbs. The dragon flies off into the distance.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What can I do?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo sighs dejectedly. “Help me distract her? If we both run in opposite directions, it might confuse her, and make it more difficult for her to aim.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ren nods. “Right. Distraction. I can do that.” He climbs to his feet, wiping the dust from his jeans as he does, before offering her a hand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“When she comes for the centre, we run for it. Just camp on her until she flies away, and then—”, Cleo takes his hand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And then we run like Hell.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. ZombieCleo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"><span class="s1">Cleo had never formed a clear opinion on Rendog. The two didn’t particularly speak, and although she had been around him before, the pair didn’t particularly interact much. They had been on opposite sides of the Civil War, and she knew his name had been on the ghost ship prank that was meant for her. But still, that had all been in good fun, and she hadn’t blamed </span> <span class="s2"> <em>Ren</em> </span> <span class="s1"> for any of that. After all, she was the one that had provoked him, not the other way around. But other than that, the two just really...didn’t interact much.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And yet Cleo didn’t think she could have physically been happier to see this man.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Oh my </span> <span class="s2"> <em>god</em> </span> <span class="s1">, I have never been so happy to see a human being in my life.” She says sometime later, the dragon having been defeated, and the pair finally having the time for a moments rest. She collapses against the side of an obsidian pillar, allowing her head to lean back against the hard surface as she catches her breath.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Likewise. Well, er, relatively speaking.” Ren looks over at her, cocking his head to the side as if trying to decide on a form of phrase. “Uh, zombie? Wight? Individual? Being?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo waves him off. “Good enough.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Right.” Ren leans over, bending his legs as he rests his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. “Aw man, that was </span> <span class="s2"> <em>insane</em> </span> <span class="s1"> my dude. I mean, I’ve fought the dragon before, but that was </span> <span class="s2"> <em>intense</em> </span> <span class="s1">.”</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Cleo merely groans in response, sliding down the side of the pillar so as to sit on the ground, resting her arms on her knees. “I. Never. Want to go. To the End. </span> <span class="s2"> <em>Again</em> </span> <span class="s1">.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ren looks across at the relatively barren landscape before them. “Yeah, this really wasn’t the best starting location if I’m honest.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ya think?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The pair remain silent for a moment, simply allowing themselves to breathe, before Cleo speaks again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, where did you start?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“On one of the outer islands.” Ren replies, walking towards the obsidian tower where he lowers himself to the ground, joining her at her side. “There was nothing around but chorus fruit and Endermen, and I figured I’d need some supplies for when I got back to the main island and had to fight the dragon, but there was an End City relatively close by so I did some raiding, but you kind of beat me to the dragon bit.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo laughs. “Yes, well, maybe I should have waited a bit longer. Would have had a lot easier of a time with an extra person.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I dunno man, you seemed to manage just fine on your own. What I don’t get is how you managed to destroy all of those crystals without blowing up.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That-“ Cleo pauses. “Is kind of a long story.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well,” Ren shifts his body to the side so that he is properly facing her. “Seeing as how we are both pretty exhausted and probably won’t be leaving for a while,” he smiles, “I’ve got plenty of time.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And so the two sat and exchanged their tales of woe, recounting the events that had occurred up until that point, and discussing their future course of action as they planned where they would go from there.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, what now? Do we just...stay here?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Cleo sits up. “Well, I thought that originally, but after all that, I really would just like to get as far from this place as possible. Would be nice to get some tools set up. Maybe find a bed.” Her stomach growls loudly, and she covers it with her hand. “Also, I don’t know about you, but I am </span> <span class="s2"> <em>starving</em> </span> <span class="s1">.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ren smiles lightly. “Fair. What if someone comes to the End looking for us?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hmm, well, we could just dig the shape of an arrow pointing to the portal. Think that’ll do it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Worth a shot.”<br/></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo stands.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Say, Cleo?” Ren calls.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s nothing, I was just wondering...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Spit it out.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ren shifts beside her. “Well you know how usually when people leave the End it brings them back to their spawn in the Overworld?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, I was just thinking.” He scratches the back of his neck. “We both started in the End, right?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Which means we don’t have a spawn in the Overworld,” Cleo hums “and hypothetically going through the portal to </span> <span class="s2"> <em>leave</em> </span> <span class="s1"> the End shouldn’t bring us back to our spawn </span> <span class="s2"> <em>in</em> </span> <span class="s1"> the End, right?”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I suppose...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Soo...where do we spawn.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo raises an eyebrow. “You sound like you’ve got an idea.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ren nods. “Yes. Well, no. I mean maybe? It’s just a theory really. I can’t prove anything, and obviously I don’t know for sure, and really I could be completely wrong and this probably sounds so completely stupid and-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ren.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Right! So, normally going through the End Portal from this side takes you back to the world spawn or wherever you’ve set it in the Overworld, but neither of </span> <span class="s2">us</span> <span class="s1"> should have any sort of spawn there, if I’m correct, and I mean there’s really only one way to tell for sure, but assuming I am, I may have developed a slight hypothesis.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo blinks. Ren continues.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“While I was still on the outer islands, I may have gotten to a bit of thinking, ya know back before we defeated the dragon and all; and that was mighty impressive by the way I still don’t know how you managed to take out all those crystals by yourself with literally nothing, and how you used the caged crystals to get the iron bars and then used them to take out the others, and you had literally nothing but some enderpearls and that was super smart and I totally would have had zero idea what to do, and like the fact that you literally <em>punched</em> the dragon to death was freaking epic and-“</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“</span> <span class="s2"> <em>Ren</em> </span> <span class="s1">.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anyway! We don’t have a spawn set in the Overworld, but a dimension portal is still a dimension portal, right? Just because we don’t have a spawn set there doesn’t mean that the portal will stop being a portal.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I mean...sure?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ren continues. “If neither of us have a spawn in the Overworld, but the portal is still a portal, then going through it will create a bit of a paradox, but my theory is that it will probably try to stick to it’s code as much as physically possible. Meaning it will most likely try to send us to a spot in the Overworld that is as close as it can get to our spawn in the End.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo blinks, processing this explanation in her brain. “...You think it’ll take us to the end portal room of a Stronghold?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ren shrugs. “I dunno, maybe. Like I said, I can’t really prove anything, it’s just a theory.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Cleo hums. “I mean, it’s a good theory, but I suppose there’s really only one way to find out. But if you’re right, and this really </span> <span class="s2"> <em>does</em> </span> <span class="s1"> send us to a Stronghold, who’s to say we’ll be sent to the same one? I mean there’s Strongholds all over the Overworld.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ren thinks. “Hmm, well, why don’t we decide on a set of coordinates? I mean, the portal could do nothing, but if it really sends us to different locations, we need a way of finding each other again.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo nods. “Right. Why don’t we say....0,0?? Simple, easy to remember. If we get separated, just go to the coordinates and we’ll wait there. And if nothing happens,” she glances dejectedly off in the vague direction of her starting chamber “well, I suppose you’ll know where to find me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ren nods. “Sounds good. And who knows? If we really <em>are</em> sent to different Strongholds, maybe we’ll even run into some other Hermits along the way.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And that’s when it dawns on her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Joe’s in a Stronghold.” Cleo says in a voice just above a whisper. Ren looks over at her. “He died to a Silverfish back when you were killed by that Shulker Bullet.” She explains. She pauses, hardly daring to think of the connotations of this discovery. “Do you think...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ren shrugs, nodding his head. “I mean, it’s definitely a possibility. Stronghold’s are pretty rare.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, but there’s still more than one of them. What are the odds that either of us spawn in the same one he’s in?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No idea, but it won’t hurt to do a sweep of it when we get there will it? Besides, you’ve got lots of enderpearl’s, right? We know his relative location, so if he’s not there we’ll just make some eye of ender and have them lead us to the next Stronghold.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo nods, moving to stand once again. “Right. Let’s do this then.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh yeah! That reminds me! I’ve got something for you!” Ren climbs to his feet as well, rummaging around in his pockets. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo cocks her head to the side. “Oh?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Firstly!” He produces a handful of chorus fruit from the depths of his jacket and presents them to her. “These were for you. I saw that you starved to death, and I figured that there probably wasn’t any food, so I stopped on the way to collect some, so here.” She blinks, staring at the offered fruit before reaching forward to take them. “Just, ya know, be careful. Cause, you know, chorus fruit. Not the best, but it’s better than nothing right?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo was inclined to agree. She raises the fruit to her lips where she proceeds to take a large bite. Immediately she is teleported several feet away, but it had at least refilled some of her hunger. She does this several more times, continuing to port from place to place, before her hunger is finally satiated. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She had never been so happy to see a chorus fruit. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Secondly!” Ren plonks down a single black chest on the ground in front of him as Cleo approaches once more. He rummages through it’s contents for a moment, as if extracting items, before producing a regular brown chest from its depths. He places this directly beside the other and immediately begins to put something inside, before stepping back and gesturing to the object with both hands. “Look at all this loot!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo approaches the brown chest curiously, peering inside. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">And her jaw just about hits the floor. He hadn’t been kidding. It’s contents were positively </span> <span class="s2"> <em>full</em> </span> <span class="s1"> of loot. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">13 iron, 7 gold, 5 diamonds, 1 Elytra, a brewing stand, a couple of health potions, 2 Diamond pickaxes, a Diamond sword, as well as a full set of enchanted Diamond armour plus an extra helmet and pair of boots, as well as an assortment of enchanted iron armour and 28 Shulker shells. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I also got a couple of beetroot seeds and pretty much gutted the place of ladders, because resources are pretty slim out here. Figured we could use them to just dig up and climb straight out of whatever cave we spawn in next. Took the chests and a few end rods too. Oh, and the item frame. Can never have too much stuff, you know?” He scratches the back of his head, almost sheepishly. “The silk pick has curse of vanishing, which kind of sucks, but the sword’s got Looting II and mending, and I figured we could split the armour between us, and then we’d both be pretty well protected.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Cleo blinks up at the man before her. “You had full Diamond armour and you didn’t wear any of it for the trip over here </span> <span class="s2"> <em>why</em> </span> <span class="s1">?”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ren scratches his head sheepishly. “Well, um, ya know, I was just being cautious. Dragon fights just...don’t usually go well for me. I figured we’d save the good gear in case, ya know, <em>death</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright, alright, fair.” She reaches into the chest, immediately taking the spare helmet and boots and equipping them instantly, but she pauses at the remaining loot. There wasn’t enough spare for a full set of Diamond armour, and the things were Ren’s by right, she didn’t want to impose. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ren steps forward, procuring his own helmet and boots, and looking at the remaining loot as if sensing her dilemma. “You take the chestplate, I’ll take the pants?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo nods. “Sounds good.” She takes the Diamond chestplate from the box, securing it around her back, before taking a set of iron leggings to complete her armour. “You take the sword, but I wouldn’t mind one of the picks.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Done. And here.” He tosses two diamonds onto the floor. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Rendog had just earned the achievement <b>[Diamonds to You!].</b></em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>ZombieCleo has just earned the achievement <b>[DIAMONDS!]</b>.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo looks at him quizzically. “For a sword.” He explains. “Ya know, once you find some wood and all.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo nods, pocketing the diamonds before fiddling with the straps of her armour. Ren looks back into the chest. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What about the Elytra?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo shakes her head. “You take it. I’ve never been much of a flyer if I’m honest.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, me neither.” Ren scratches the back of his head. “Why don’t we keep it safe for now? It’s not like we have any rockets anyway, and we probably won’t be doing much flying if we’re stuck in a cave.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“True. Let’s keep it safe for now, we don’t want to die and lose it. And who knows, maybe we’ll run into Grian. It might be a nice surprise for him.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ren nods his agreement. “Where do you think he started?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Grian? Who knows. But with his penchant for flying like a maniac probably somewhere cramped and dark where it’s impossible to fly. I mean, not that he can without an Elytra anyway, but it’s probably some place that’s just enough to remind him. Make him miss it. Mountains? Or somewhere underground maybe?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well that narrows it down.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo shrugs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright, now let’s get the Hell out of here.” She moves to walk towards the portal, but is stopped when Ren steps in front of her. She’s about to question him when he speaks.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“I do actually have </span> <span class="s2"> <em>one</em> </span> <span class="s1"> more thing for you.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She stops, looking at the man in front of her. He had already shared with her his tools, his food, his resources, his Diamond armour. What else could he possibly want to give her?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And what’s that?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ren reaches behind his back for a moment before bringing his hand back around, in the palm of which now sat a large, black dragon head. He holds the item out for her to take. “I figured you might want this.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo decides that she likes Rendog.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So I did debate having them be stuck in the End, but I had plans for both of them later that required them to be in the Overworld, and I didn’t fancy cutting any later scenes, so this was the best excuse I could come up with 😅</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Grian</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"><span class="s1">It’s dark. That is the first thing that he notices. Was that it was </span> <span class="s2"> <em>bloody dark</em> </span> <span class="s1">. Grian blinks rapidly, as if to clear his eyes, but the darkness remains. He tries to squint his eyes, straining to see even a tiny glimpse of his surroundings, but to no avail - he can’t see anything.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hello?” He calls. There is no reply. “Is anyone there?” He tries again. The only response is his own distorted voice echoing back at him in the darkness. He hears a sound like the dripping of water, and a second later something wet lands on the top of his head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He takes a step forward in the darkness, his foot crunching loudly as his shoe scuffs the ground. He can hear the echo of a single pebble as it stumbles across the floor, the object rolling away from him in a sort of skipping clatter of sound, and then there is silence again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Grian reaches his arms out in front of him, shuffling his feet along the floor as he feels about blindly. A second later, his hand brushes against something cool, and he runs his fingertips along the surface, trying to distinguish the object.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The object felt like stone. Damp stone. He wouldn’t have gone as far as to say it felt wet, there were no obvious water droplets that clung to its surface, but it was by no means dry either. Almost like the very stone had absorbed the moisture in the air, like a sort of solid sponge, and he wonders if it would indeed be wet if he were to break it open and look inside. He runs his hand further along the surface. A wall of cold, damp stone that for all he knew carried on for miles. He must have been underground.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He takes a few steps forwards, running his hand along the length of the wall as he does, before the smooth stone beneath his fingers is interrupted by an unfamiliar texture. He stops. He moves his other hand to grasp at the new material.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Was that wood?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He runs his hand along the frame, up the wall, over his head, and down the other side. And that’s when he realizes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Grian was in a mineshaft.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had walked forward only a few steps more when suddenly he stops once again. He had heard something. The slightest noise had sounded directly in front of him, one that was so faint that he was almost sure he had imagined it, but it was one that had sounded distinctly like a set of wheels on a track. He blindly reaches a hand towards the supposed source of the sound, and then he feels it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Metal. His fingers had touched something hard and distinctly metallic, and his hand surges forward to get more clarity. It was a minecart.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">A minecart with a </span> <span class="s2"> <em>chest</em> </span> <span class="s1">.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Well that was lucky.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He feels up the side, looking for the lid of the box, before propping it open and rummaging around inside. Again, he feels around blindly at it’s contents, and he picks up each item individually as he examines them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The first thing he had grabbed had felt a bit like a large rock. It didn’t have the right texture to be a Diamond, and it wasn’t elongated enough to be iron, which leads him to believe that the object must have been coal.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Ok, that’s not the end of the world. Coal could be useful.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The second item felt longer, more ovular in nature, and he brings his second hand in for more clarity. He squeezes it between his fingers, the object producing a distinctive crunch, and he raises the item towards his nose, inhaling deeply.<br/></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Yep. Bread. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bread was also not terrible. At least, not at this particular moment. At least he would have some food.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The third item was small, and round. There were several of these small, pebble like objects within the confines of the chest, and he scoops them up in the palm of his hand, rolling the objects between his fingers as if they were a bunch of very small marbles. Maybe some form of seeds?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The chest itself hadn’t contained anything that would particularly be classified as “valuable”, but there was one thing left that was quite possibly the most useful item within the box of non-treasures.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">5 torches.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">5 torches were going to be his saviour. He had only been on the map for a few minutes and the darkness was already starting to drive him crazy. He kneels towards the floor, his hand brushing aside a series of loose rocks and pebbles as he blindly scours the ground for a bit of flint. These 5 torches were going to be his salvation.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Or his downfall.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His hand closes around a pair of elongated stones, shoving them into his pocket as he reaches for the handle of a torch. And without thinking much about repercussions, he jabs the wooden end into ground to hold it steady.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This had been a bad move.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Immediately the ground gives out beneath his feet, the wooden end of the torch slipping from his grasp, and then he’s falling. Down, down, down into the abyss of black. The only thing that had probably saved him from taking too much fall damage was the gravel beneath his feet that had fallen with him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then it stops.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Almost immediately he erupts into a loud fit of coughing. The disturbed gravel had left a trail of debris in its wake, and he coughs loudly as a layer of dust comes to coat the inside of his throat. He shoves his face into the crook of his arm.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He waits a moment, allowing both the dust and his coughing to settle before reaching for another torch, once again shoving its base into the loose gravel of the floor. He pulls the stones from his pocket, holding them over the object, and he knocks them together, a single spark shooting forward, and then the torch is set alight. He tosses the stones aside, grabbing hold of the base of the torch, and pulling it from the ground. He holds the light aloft.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The darkness hadn’t particularly concealed overly much of a view, if he was honest. He was surrounded on all sides by walls of stone, the light from his torch casting the room in a sort of dull, orangey glow, and the flames danced playfully upon their greyish walls.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks down. He now stood at the bottom of a pit, having unintentionally triggered the collapse of the floor, and the fall had left him coated in a layer of gravel. He combs his fingers through his shagged mess of hair, and several pebbles clatter to the floor. A few feet away, he spots the base of his lost torch, and he retrieves it.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">He looks up. The fall was a lot further than he initially realized, much too far to reasonably climb out without digging himself a staircase, and he can only </span> <span class="s2"> <em>just</em> </span> <span class="s1"> manage to make out the shape of the mineshaft above him.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Almost on instinct, his hand reaches towards his hip, making as if to produce one of the many rockets that were always in his possession, but his hand merely closes around the empty air. He pauses, as if confused, and his hand flies to grasp at his back mere moments later. He finds nothing save the material of his shirt, and his eyes grow wide with the realization.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">No Elytra.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This was going to be a lot harder than he thought.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sighing, he moves to collect the gravel scattered about the room, fashioning himself a pillar, before using it to scaffold back to the top.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Only, he doesn’t get that far.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was only a few feet from the top when he suddenly hears a quiet hiss, and he spots the familiar green all too late.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>No!</em>”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He covers his head with his arms, but it’s too late. The Creeper has already exploded, and the ensuing blast is enough to knock him from the top of his pillar, sending him once again spiralling down into the pit.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Grian fell from a high place.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Not wasting any time, he immediately runs towards the pit again, jumping down to his half destroyed pillar where he proceeds to lower himself the rest of the way down, collecting his things.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>I mean, at least I didn’t have to go far.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He tries to scaffold up again, but the explosion had destroyed his blocks, and he no longer has enough to reach the top. In fact, he still had about halfway to go. He sighs, realizing the connotations of this knowledge, and he glares at the stone structure of the wall before reluctantly starting to punch it by hand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Punching stone was not exactly what one would call <em>fun</em>. It took a lot of time, it didn’t drop anything, and the overall motion just made his knuckles ache. And Grian wasn’t particularly known for his stunning patience. If only he’d found a pickaxe...</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks up to see the wooden support beams of the mineshaft, perfectly untouched and laying just beyond his reach. He sighs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>You know, if I was smart I’d have taken the wood first...</em> </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. GoodTimesWithScar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It hadn’t taken Scar overly long to find land. He’d camped for a single night in the middle of the Ocean, having used up the remainder of his blocks to build another dirt shack of a shelter in order to escape from the phantoms, but aside from that, he had only been swimming for the length of about a day and a half before he’d come across his first sighting of solid terrain.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He emerges from the water, his sopping wet clothes dripping heavily as he pulls his body onto the shore, and he collapses to the ground, lying spread-eagled on the sand as he looks up at the sky above him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Land. Sweet land.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He takes a moment to adjust to the feeling of solid ground beneath him. His limbs felt much heavier now, having gotten used to the sort of weightless floating that the Ocean provided. Or maybe weightless wasn’t quite the right word. He knew his mass did not just disappear with the addition of water, but he was more...buoyant. Less inclined by gravity. And the flow of his limb movements were much more fluid in the water compared to on land. But now, he just felt heavy, if not a little light headed. Several days in the Ocean had allowed the sea to become thoroughly acquainted with him, and now, he felt more than a little bit waterlogged.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">He feels the squelch of water around his wet socks and he grimaces, inclining his head just enough to stare down at the sodden form of his boots. The wetness hadn’t particularly bothered him when he was, well, </span> <span class="s2">in the water</span> <span class="s1">. Not when he had been fully submerged and the uniformness of the liquid around him was enough so that he just didn’t really notice the feeling. But on dry land, it was more than a little uncomfortable.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">He sits up, slipping his jacket from his shoulders, and reaching down to undo the laces of his boots. A gush of water sloshes from within as he slips the articles from his feet, and his socks hit the ground with a wet sort of </span> <span class="s2"><em>whap</em> as </span> <span class="s1">they too are tossed aside.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He immediately buries his feet in the sand, feeling the individual grains between his toes as they flex and burrow themselves deeper. There’s a sort of primal feeling about the action, and yet there’s an heir of innocence there too. Like a small child playing on the beach, sculpting and moulding away at the sand just to witness its destruction when it is inevitably squashed in a running jump of giggles. There’s something freeing about its feel, and he can’t help but smile at the action.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A warm breeze ruffles through his damp hair, and he angles his face towards the sky. This was nice, he thinks, the sun beating down upon him as it’s rays warm his cold skin. The waves crash softly upon the shore, and he sighs, allowing a sense of calm to fill his being.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Ping!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He frowns, the loud sound disturbing the quiet peacefulness of the atmosphere, and he fishes his communicator from his pocket with a groan. The device emerges decidedly un-waterlogged, a drastic contrast to his still dripping form. In fact, it was perfectly dry, as if preserved by some unknown magic, and the gadget itself appeared perfectly pristine, as if it had never been in the water at all. He looks at the screen.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>BdoubleO100 was slain by Elder Guardian using magic.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Ah...right...</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was there for a reason, he reminded himself. He was just there to get some resources. Some wood, some saplings, maybe a stack or so of dirt, and then home. Bdubs could only do so much without tools, and he was counting on Scar to come back with resources.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That, and Scar was sure Bdubs was more than a little tired of fighting Guardians with his fists. And when the mans spawn was set under water, he could only imagine what it must have been like to have to re-navigate the entire Monument every time he died. He had only just barely managed to escape the first time, and so long as the structure remained full of water, that meant that Guardians would only continue to spawn, making it that much more difficult for poor Bdubs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Ping!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>BdoubleO100 was slain by Elder Guardian using magic.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Maybe I’ll invest in a bed too...</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He reluctantly pulls himself from the sand with a sigh, gathering his discarded articles in his arms as he climbs to his feet. There were a few trees close by, so there wasn’t really a pressing need to put them on again, it wasn’t like he planned on going very far. And the articles were still sopping wet. He might as well leave them to dry in the sun while he went about his work, even if there was only half a day of sunlight left.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He discards the articles on the edge of the beach before approaching the first tree in his line of sight.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">GoodTimesWithScar has just earned the achievement </span> <span class="s3"><b>[Getting Wood]</b>.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">GoodTimesWithScar has just earned the achievement </span> <span class="s3"><b>[Benchmaking]</b>.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He figured that would be enough to inform Bdubs of his progress. At least he’d managed a crafting table, and two more logs would provide him with a wooden pickaxe, which in theory should have been all he needed. Of course, he was going to collect the saplings as well. There was no sense returning without at least a basic means of reproducing trees, they would only wind up in the same position as they were now.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Wood was generally useful for a lot of reasons. Planks, sticks, tools, torches, weapons - It was a staple in most basic crafting recipes, and survival without it was almost impossible. But Scar, being the person he was, wanted it for an additional reason: <em>Building</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Scar, as was established, was a master builder. A master builder who, among other things, was known for his proficiency in two very distinct forms of specialty: terraforming and custom trees - He tended to go through a lot of wood.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Ping!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>BdoubleO100 was slain by Elder Guardian using magic.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He finishes chopping down the first tree before placing his crafting table, fashioning himself a wooden pickaxe from the materials gathered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">GoodTimesWithScar has just earned the achievement </span> <span class="s3"> <b>[Time to Mine!]</b> </span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Not wasting any time, he immediately begins to dig downward, displacing the layers of dirt until he reaches the stone beneath.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>GoodTimesWithScar has just made the advancement <b>[Stone Age].</b></em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Now we’re talking.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Now that he had stone, he had access to a significantly better set of tools. Stone was marginally faster and significantly more durable that wood, and stone tools would ultimately mean less crafting for him in the long run compared to their wooden counterparts. Even so, not wanting to be wasteful, he chips away until his measly wooden pickaxe has run out, and he returns to the surface with almost a full stack of cobblestone.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>GoodTimesWithScar has just earned the achievement <b>[Getting an Upgrade]</b>.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Ping!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>BdoubleO100 was slain by Elder Guardian using magic.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know, I hear ya bud.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He fashions himself a stone axe, and then he gets back to work, approaching the next oak tree as he continues his quest for resources.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He continues on in this fashion for some time, collecting logs and saplings, even managing a few seeds before the sun begins to dip along the horizon. He had set up a basic campsite along the beach, digging himself a little hobbit hole of a shelter into the side of a nearby hill, and a roaring bonfire now blazed just outside its door. The structure was nothing fancy, merely a hollowed hole in the ground, but it was a decided upgrade from the dirt shacks of which he had constructed previously.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’d come across a few animals throughout the day as well. A few chickens, a couple cows, even some sheep which had provided him with enough wool for a single bed. Not that he would be able to skip the night anyway, but even a single night of sleep would at least keep the Phantoms off of his tail for a few days, and the meat was enough to satiate his growing hunger, at least for the time being.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sits on the ground, reclined against the still warm sand, and he watches the glowing orange of the sun as it’s swallowed into the depths of the Ocean. Sunsets were a relatively rare occurrence on their particular server, Bdubs was a very avid sleeper, and he tended to jump for a bed the second the sun showed any indication of going down. Scar didn’t really blame him, per say. After all, night brought with it all sorts of hostile monsters that he would be just as happy to avoid, and he knew how much Bdubs loved his sleep. This did tend to mean, however, that the other Hermits very rarely got to witness a proper sunset.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sees the first faded stars peek their way across the swirling purple of the dusk sky. There would be no night skipping this early in the game, not when so many Hermits were without a bed, and indeed many were still in a dimension were the action was not possible. This would undoubtedly become a problem later, but as of this moment, he wasn’t complaining. He could worry about it some other night, but right now, he was going to enjoy his sunset. He sighs contentedly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>You know, maybe there’s a perk to this arrangement after all...</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Ping!</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>BdoubleO100 was slain by Guardian using magic.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Scar grins.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Just couldn’t let me enjoy my sunset, could you...</em>
</p><p class="p1">He laughs lightly, shaking his head. He somehow thought that last one had been on purpose.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Cubfan135</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, this chapter was not planned for at all, but here we are 😅</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cub had been faring pretty well, all things considered. He had given up trying to navigate above ground, there were way too many Ghasts and Skeletons for that, and when the vast expanse of soul sand made it particularly difficult to dodge, or even move in general, he’d decided he’d had enough. Not that he could particularly escape the soul sand, at least not until he somehow found a way out of the biome, but he would at least be safe from the mobs beneath the surface.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had been progressing through the use of an underground tunnel system. Although system was a bit of an elaborate term, because it was in fact just the one tunnel. An extremely long tunnel, mind you, but still just the one tunnel. And progress had been <em>slow</em>. Soul sand was not exactly the fastest sort of terrain to travel on, and the digging tended to take a lot of his time, but all things considered he’d actually managed to make it a fair distance from spawn.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The trick was not to take any damage, he’d discovered this the hard way after dying of starvation halfway up his current tunnel. He had been hit by Ghasts before his initial decent underground, which meant that he’d expended a great deal of energy in order to heal his wounds. And once your energy had been even slightly depleted, that was when the hunger started to kick in, and with no food available in this particular biome, death by starvation was inevitable.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Being in a biome filled with mobs that hurled explosives, the only way to really guarantee safety was to be underground. And the only way to avoid taking any sort of damage at all was to start there. Meaning he had needed to manipulate his spawn so that he started in a pit at least 3 blocks down. That, or he would need to construct a sort of shelter around the spot, but seeing as he would need to be underground anyway, he had opted for the first alternative.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It had taken him a few tries to get the positioning just right. He’d first needed to take note of the coordinates of his original hole, and then he’d needed to die so that he could find his spawn - a simple enough process. After that, all he’d needed to do was dig down and connect his spawn with the existing tunnel. Easy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At least, that was the plan. And it was a good plan, in theory. But in practice? Not so much.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had gotten as far as dying to find his spawn before things had gone south. The second he had reappeared above ground he had been blasted backwards by a Ghast ball, and then immediately following had been blasted by three more. He had spent a solid 5 minutes failing miserably at dodging and hitting back Ghast balls before he’d managed to kill at least two of them, and then another expertly aimed ball of fire had done him in from a third.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At that point, it was probably for the best. He’d moved around too much during the fight, and he could no longer tell which direction he had come or which spot he had spawned on, which was the entire point of this excursion. He supposed dying was more of a blessing in disguise.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The second time round he had actually managed to dig the hole, only to have a skeleton wander over the edge two seconds later. And being trapped in a pit with the mob was not a particularly pleasant experience. The chest full of arrows was only marginally less painful than a direct hit from a Ghast, but the single Skeleton had only managed to slay him once before he could respawn and dispose of it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With this event came both good news and bad news. The good news was that he had managed to move his spawn underground, and with that, he would no longer need to worry about Ghasts blowing him up every time he died. But the bad news?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After all of that, did you think he could remember the coordinates of the tunnel?</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">He had tried simply digging his surroundings, but when that had failed, he had needed to go above ground, hoping to find the original hole via crash site. This had also proved a difficult task. He had been shot at by a </span> <span class="s2">lot</span> <span class="s1"> of Ghasts, and the above terrain looked much like a half exploded minefield of craters and fire. And when fire in the Nether tended to burn infinitely, it wasn’t as if he could check to see which craters had been more recent than others.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had, of course, found the entrance eventually. After much wandering, he had stumbled upon the tunnel when a Ghast had inadvertently blown up the ground, revealing the original hole he had dug what felt like so long ago now. If he hadn’t already been searching for it, he might have almost considered the discovery more of an accident, but as it was, he felt it was more sheer dumb luck that had led him there.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But then, this had been hours ago. As it stood, he was no longer anywhere near his original starting point. Now, after much struggling and hours of walking, he once again found himself beneath the ground, trudging along quietly in the solitude that was his tunnel. He can hear the crunch of sand beneath his feet as his boots sink into the grains, the faint crackle of fire a sort of muted ambience of sound that could be heard somewhere off in the distance as he continues to walk along.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He continues to dig forward, parting the expanse of sand with his hands as the grains become lodged beneath his fingernails, the skin around the area now caked with the substance. His lab coat had not faired much better, the white fabric having now been stained with patches of a dull sort of brown where the material had come into contact with the dirt. He supposed white was maybe not the best sort of colour had he hoped to maintain any semblance of cleanliness, but he also supposed that this maybe wasn’t a uniquely Nether type problem.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sighs, brushing the dirt from his hands onto the sides of his lab coat, only contributing more to its current state of mess. He was bored. Digging a straight tunnel for hours was not exactly what he would have referred to as <em>fun</em>. He would poke his head above the surface every kilometre or so, looking for any signs of distant biomes or anything else that might otherwise be of use, but aside from that, he had no means of entertainment. He was alone out here, with no one to talk to. And when he was constantly moving, it wasn’t as if he could just plop down a jukebox and listen to some music to pass the time.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Not that he particularly had a jukebox to place. Or much of anything really. After connecting the tunnel with his spawn, he had taken the time to procure another bow, his first batch of items having long since despawned. The time it had taken him to procure the weapon was enough to secure him about half a stack of arrows and almost a full stack of bones, but aside from that, he had nothing. And in order to survive properly, he was going to need things.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">His top priority had to be food. He had been faring alright thus far, but his entire success up until this point had been owed to the fact that he wasn’t hungry. And the only reason he wasn’t hungry was because he was being </span> <span class="s2"><em>very</em> </span> <span class="s1">conservative with his energy. He couldn’t run, jump, or take damage of any kind, and while his current method of transportation had served him well up until this point, progress was </span> <span class="s2"> <em>bloody </em> </span> <span class="s1">slow, and there was no way he would be able to survive like this indefinitely. He would need some form of sustenance should he hope to make any real progress above ground.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">His second priority would need to be armour. More specifically, a single piece of golden armour. </span> <span class="s2"> <em>Any</em> </span> <span class="s1"> golden armour. Again, he had been lucky in the fact that Piglins didn’t happen spawn in Soul Sand Valley’s, or else he was sure he would have never had a moments rest. But again, he was not going to be in this biome forever, and while Piglin’s didn’t spawn in </span> <span class="s2"> <em>every</em> </span> <span class="s1"> biome in the Nether, the likelihood of him coming across one was still high enough to pose a significant threat. And in order to pass by the mobs undetected, he would need a piece of golden armour.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The last thing he was going to need was a sword. He wasn’t overly fussed about finding wood or other tools at this point. If he came across some of the Nether trees he would consider it a bonus, but right now, his top priority was a sword. There were way too many hostile creatures within the Nether to go without one. His bow had served him well, and honestly he would have preferred to use it indefinitely, but with his severely limited number of arrows and otherwise lack of enchantments, he was going to need a weapon for close combat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He digs forward a couple more feet before once again digging out a block of the ceiling, glancing upwards as he peers out at the terrain beyond. A wall of red brick appears in his line of sight, and he shuffles around his hole as he struggles to get a better view of the structure.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It had to be a Nether Fortress. There was no other explanation. He must have dug almost in a straight line directly towards its base, and he ponders for a moment on the connotations of this discovery.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">On the one hand, Nether Fortresses would have a great deal more mobs than the mostly barren terrain of his Soul Sand Valley. Fortresses could spawn Magma Cubes, and Wither Skeletons, and Blaze among other things, and more mobs meant a higher chance of death. But on the other hand, they would also contain loot. <br/></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Fortresses would have chests where he could pick up supplies, namely a golden chestplate if he was lucky, and a sword. There was also a relatively small chance of finding obsidian, which was something he was going to need in order to make a portal back to the Overworld. That, and as of this moment, that structure was the only thing that housed a potential source of food within his biome - <em>Zombified Piglins</em>. Rotten flesh was very obviously not the best of sources for food, but as of right now, it was also his <em>only</em> option - he wasn’t exactly in a position to be picky.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks back down the tunnel towards his spawn which had long since passed from sight. Entering the Fortress would be dangerous, and if he were to die now, it would be an awfully long journey back again. But he also didn’t particularly have anything to lose. The only thing he particularly cared about was his bow, but even then, that could always be replaced. He had nothing of value, and thus didn’t <em>particularly</em> have anything to lose. Did he go in and risk the painfully long journey back in the event of death? Or did he play it safe, continuing his tunnel beneath the ground in the hopes that he would eventually come across something better?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks at the Nether Fortress, then back down his tunnel, to his bow in his hand, and then back to the Fortress. He cracks his knuckles.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Screw it. Let’s do this. </em> </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Stressmonster101</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Time skip? Sort of? Not really, but maybe just a little bit.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"><span class="s1">Stress had been trudging onwards for what felt like forever. She could have been walking for hours, days, weeks, she really couldn’t say. She had no concept of time in the Nether, but she was </span> <span class="s2"> <em>tired</em> </span> <span class="s1">. </span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Stress, herself, was a relatively fit human being. She participated in bouts of daily yoga, she often did a standard set of exercises in the morning, and if it was </span> <span class="s2"> <em>really</em> </span> <span class="s1"> nice out, she might even go outside for a jog. Nothing overly strenuous, mind. She didn’t do any real weight lifting or significant body building, but that did not mean she was any less physically active, and years of mining had definitely given her a more substantial muscle mass than the average person.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">But she was </span> <em><span class="s2">bloody </span> <span class="s3">tired</span> </em><span class="s1">. Her muscles were sore, her feet ached, and really she would have liked nothing more than to sit down and rest, but she forces herself forward. The Nether was not the place for rest, although she herself was probably in one of the safer biomes. Well, safe for the Nether that is, but that did not mean she was any less on edge.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After much wandering, Stress now found herself in the heart of a Warped Forest, trudging along beneath the canopies of what she could almost imagine to be ordinary trees. If she didn’t think about it too much, she could almost imagine she was back in the Overworld, casually taking an afternoon stroll beneath the canopied forest, brushing the ferns and overgrowth as she passed. The birds would be chirping happily from above, and maybe a few foxes would be scampering away in the underbrush. She could almost picture the sunlight as it streamed through the boughs, bathing its surroundings in its golden glow. She can almost hear the soft rustle of leaves as they are blown about in the wind. Can almost feel the warm breeze against her cheeks as it combs through her hair.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2"> <em>Almost</em> </span> <span class="s1">.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But she knew better. There were no animals here. No birds, no sunlight, and certainly no breeze. In fact, the forest was eerily quiet, without even the slightest rustle of leaves to disturb the silence. Not even the solitary squawk of a lonely crow. It felt...wrong. Disturbing. Like there was a predator lurking around every corner waiting to pounce. As if she expected the vines to come alive and attack her, but they don’t. In fact, everything is still, as if the very terrain were simply carved in stone. Frozen as if suspended in time, neither alive nor dead, but simply there, unable to move or grow or even die. It was like walking through a wax museum of figurines posed in mid action sequence, and the entire biome was the diorama. She walks beneath the canopy of a large warped tree, glancing upwards at its twisting branches warily.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The trees didn’t look natural. Their gnarled bark was warped and splotched, as if it’s skin had been half peeled away by disease, only to have grown back to create its spotted mess of an overlapping husk. The bark itself looked dry and brittle, and she might have almost described it as dead had it not been for the glowing sap that flowed through its cracks like blood through veins. The purple ooze pulsed beneath its surface as it flowed like a poison through its bloodstream, pumping the strange fluent throughout its limbs as they extended in a twisting mess of branches that drooped and curved inwards; like a twisted hand poised to rip out its own heart. The trees looked sick, diseased, and yet frozen as if paralyzed. Suspended in their current state of near death as if enchanted, lying in wait for their spell to be broken as they sat unmoving in the silence of the petrified forest.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her feet let out a squelch of sound as she trods onwards. The ground felt odd, almost soft, squishy, as if covered in a layer of wet mulch, and it dips under her weight with each step with a sort of springing bounce. The entire environment felt alien, merely a poor attempt at mimicry, as if it had a mind of its own. Like the biome itself had tried its best to look hospitable, using its very limited knowledge on the Overworld and its inhabitants to construct its current terrain. Maybe it had been made with the intent of being inviting. Comforting. Beautiful even. But the similarity only makes it seem haunting, a stark reminder that she was very clearly not in Kansas anymore. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">An Enderman teleports in front of her and she jumps. Logically speaking, she knew she didn’t <em>technically</em> have anything to be afraid of here. The only mob that could spawn within the Warped Forest was the Enderman, and so long as she kept her eyes on the floor, she should be able to avoid any confrontations with them. But they were absolutely everywhere. All over the biome. Teleporting behind her and groaning in her ear, bringing with them a dreadful chill as if the very life had been sucked from the air, and sending wracks of goosebumps trailing up her spine. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">But that wasn’t the worst part. Actually, she didn’t mind when she spotted the Enderman all that much. It was when she </span> <span class="s2"> <em>couldn’t</em> </span> <span class="s1"> see them that she became concerned. In a biome that was otherwise completely silent, Enderman made a lot of noise. But it wasn’t their groaning that bothered her. Or the constant teleportation. Or even the chill. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was the footsteps. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">The footsteps were going to drive her mad. She didn’t mind so much when she could see their source, even if she knew roughly where they were coming from. But when those footsteps were all she could hear, without another mob in sight, it was downright terrifying. Like there were ghosts all around her, watching her every move. Playing mind games with their haunting and taunting that threatened to drive her mad. She knew nothing would hurt her. She </span> <span class="s2"> <em>knew</em> </span> <span class="s1">. And yet the suspense was almost </span> <span class="s2">worse</span> <span class="s1">, the ghostly footsteps having her teetering on the edge of insanity, jumping at every noise or even the tiniest hint of movement, waiting for that inevitable strike that she was so sure was going to come. To say she was on edge was quite frankly a bit of a understatement. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She’s walking past a large warped tree when it happens. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Out of nowhere, an arrow descends from above, flying through the air to where it lodges itself in her left shoulder. Stress doubles over in pain, stumbling backwards several steps at the sudden blow. She doesn’t even have the wits about her to register the fact that arrows should in fact </span> <span class="s2"> <em>not</em> </span> <span class="s1"> be striking her within this particular biome, barely even having the time to overcome the shock of the blow before she catches the glint of a golden sword out of the corner of her eye. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then something is rushing towards her. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“NO!!” Stress shrieks, immediately moving to cover her face with her arms, the attack finally driving her growing state of anxiety into a full out panic. It couldn’t end like this! She had come so far! Whatever this was would surly kill her and then she would be back to square one. And she didn’t even want to </span> <span class="s2"> <em>think</em> </span> <span class="s1"> about how she was going to deal with those Piglins again. She takes a deep breath, bracing herself for the impact. </span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Only, nothing happens. She waits for a moment. </span> <span class="s2"> <em>One beat. Two beats. Three. </em> </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then she hears a familiar voice. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“...Stress?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stress opens her eyes, uncovering her face from behind her hands, and turning to look towards the man in front of her. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“...Cub?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“</span> <em> <span class="s2">Stress</span> </em> <span class="s1"><em>!</em> Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even recognize you!”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She looks up at Cub, the man lowering his sword with a look of concern on his face. He pushes the blade through his belt loop before slowly striding towards her, hands out in front of him as if approaching a frightened cat. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stress blinks. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Cub, what the </span> <span class="s3"> <em> <b>Hell</b> </em> </span> <span class="s1"><em><b>?!</b></em> You scared the life out of me!!</span> <span class="s2">”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know! I’m sorry! I swear I didn’t even know it was you! I just saw the gold sword and thought you were a Piglin!”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Stress huffs. “Firstly, </span> <span class="s2"> <em>rude</em> </span> <span class="s1">. Second, you’ve got gold armour ya geezer, why are you even attacking the Piglins, they’re neutral!”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know, but they drop loot, and my armour was getting low...” he scratches the back of his head sheepishly before softly adding “was also hoping it would drop literally anything to eat...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stress shakes her head as if to clear it, finally having overcome the shock of the sudden encounter. She looks towards the man before her and then out towards the expanse of trees. She blinks. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Wait, don’t Piglins like, </span> <span class="s2"> <em>not</em> </span> <span class="s1"> spawn in Warped Forests? I thought theys could only spawn in the crimson one and the Nether Wastes.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A beat. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“...oh.” Cub looks at the ground. “I forgot...Hunger must be getting to me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her expression softens, glancing towards him with a knowing look. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s your hunger at?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He shrugs. “Bit less than half. Soul Sand Valleys aren’t exactly rich in the food department.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Were yous in a soul sand valley? That’s ‘orrible! How did you make it out alive?!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I mean, I may have died a few times.” Cub smiles. “But nothing I couldn’t handle.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well that’s cryptic, ain’t it?” Stress raises an eyebrow. “Do I get to know details?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cubs stomach growls loudly. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ah...maybe?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stress chuckles lightly. “Alright, alright. Lunch first. Or...dinner...? Breakfast..? Blimey, don’t know what time it is anymore.” She reaches into her pocket, producing a miniature sized crafting table the size of a small paper weight, the object hovering just a few inches above the palm of her hand. She closes her eyes, concentrating hard on the object, and with a wave of her hand the object grows, swelling until it has become its proper size, and she places the crafting bench on the ground. She rummages around in her pockets again before turning to him. “Don’t suppose you’ve got any bonemeal, do you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cub actually laughs. “You kidding? Bonemeal is a thing of which we currently have a surplus.” He reaches into his own pockets, producing a handful of bones, before handing them to her. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Gorgeous.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She takes the bones, immediately crushing them into its powdered form. He’s about to ask what she’s doing when she produces a brown mushroom from the depths of her pockets, planting it on the ground in front of her, and sprinkling the crushed bone atop its cap. He watches as the fungus sprouts upwards, growing bigger and bigger until it is almost the size of the many trees within the biome. Stress smiles. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hope you’re fine with mushroom stew, because mushrooms are literally the only thing I have.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His stomach growls again. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Honestly, mushroom stew sounds amazing right about now.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stress tosses him a red mushroom, and he catches it. “Good. Help me harvest some more?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He nods, planting the given object into the ground and sprinkling the top with bonemeal. He glances over at Stress as he waits for it to grow, the woman currently working on chopping down the stem of her own mushroom, arms extended high above her as she stretches to reach the top. Almost immediately, his gaze is drawn towards her abdomen, catching the stained red of fabric around the left side of her stomach, her jacket torn and very obviously bloodied around the area. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re hurt.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Eh?” Stress pauses her movements, glancing over at him before following his gaze. “Oh, you mean this here?” Her hand moves over her stomach, lightly touching the ripped fabric of clothing over the place she had been hit by the Piglin so long ago. The faded red of the now-dried blood stood out prominently against the white material of her shirt, and she supposed the sight did, in fact, look worse than it actually was. She shakes her head. “Nah, that’s old. Brute nicked me, is all.” She uses her fingers to spread the ripped crease apart, revealing the pale skin of her stomach beneath. “See? All healed up now. Shame about the clothes though, I liked this shirt.” She looks over at Cub and grins. “‘Sides, looks like you got some of your own.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Cub holds up his arms, the frayed cuffs of his own coat dangling loosely in strips of fabrics. “Yeah. Blaze got me here. Found a Nether Fortress a while back and thought I could find some equipment.” He approaches his now fully grown mushroom, beginning to chop down its stem. “I mean, I </span> <span class="s2"> <em>did</em> </span> <span class="s1">, so I suppose the trip was a <em>partial</em> success, but guess I wasn’t as careful as I should have been and, well, yeah.” He looks at the wisps of material again. “Hard to heal when you don’t have enough hunger. Got a few bits of rotten flesh from some Zombified Piglins, but not the best sources of nourishment, ya know?”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stress hums, reaching down to collect an armful of mushrooms before bringing them towards the crafting table, setting them down on its surface. “You got some more red mushrooms?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah.” He reaches down, tossing her a few before finishing his work. She catches the objects expertly, adding them to her already established pile of mushrooms, before using some spare wood to craft a few bowls. She supposed the one advantage to the Warped Forest biome was its surplus of trees.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She dices the mushrooms, throwing several handfuls into each dish before taking hold of a single basin, grasping it between each hand. She once again closes her eyes, focusing her energy on the bowl in front of her, and mutters over the object. Her tongue wraps around the galactic words as she speaks, the bowl growing warm in her hands, and then it’s done. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She opens her eyes to reveal a perfectly made stew, a string of hot steam protruding from the basin, and she smiles as she holds the bowl aloft. “Voila. One mushroom stew.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cub takes the food gratefully, immediately lifting the bowl to his lips and he gulps down its contents. He places the empty bowl back on the table as Stress works over another, and thats when he notices a certain something lodged in the shoulder of her jacket. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh...you’ve got a little...” Cub makes a vague sort of gesture to his shoulder blade. Stress looks down towards her own shoulder, discovering the arrow still lodged in the material of her jacket. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh!” The commodity didn’t hurt anymore. In fact she’d completely forgotten it was there, the area around the wound simply having gone numb. She must have forgotten to remove it. She reaches upwards, grasping the shaft of the arrow and pulls it out, the object immediately vanishing from her hand. “There we go. All gone.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh, yep, all gone. We should go soon.” Cub immediately turns, striding away from her at a speed that was <em>just</em> fast enough to be suspicious. Stress cocks her head to the side, confused.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Until she sees the bow slung over his back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stress stops, realization finally dawning on her.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Hang on, you just </span> <span class="s2"> <em>shot</em> </span> <span class="s1"> me, didn’t you?”</span></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. FalseSymmetry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I apologize to False in advance, because she is probably going to experience the most trauma in the long run.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"><span class="s1">False was a person who had a lot of agency. She was an amazing builder, she was more than an adequate flyer, and she was a PVP </span> <span class="s2"> <em>God</em> </span> <span class="s1">. If there was anything False was known for, it was her skill with a blade. Or a bow. Or any weapon at all really. She had a deadly accuracy, and she had garnered more than a little bit of a reputation for her proficiency at, well, </span> <span class="s2"> <em>killing things</em> </span> <span class="s1"> - The other Hermits knew that she was not to be trifled with. But another thing about False?</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She couldn’t resist a challenge. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She had always been one of the more competitive Hermits. Anyone with eyes could have told you as much. She enjoyed mini-games and competitions and she revelled at the thrill of adrenaline that came with being immersed in any sort of challenging task. When the idea for the game had been presented, she’d immediately jumped at the opportunity. Find the other Hermits? With no chat communication? And no single person sleep? Whilst starting in the worst possible location?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Sounds like fun. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">The problem with this particular game was that she hadn’t actually given much thought to where it would place her. She had considered a few generic locations obviously - Desert, Ocean, Mesa - places that would be difficult for anyone. But she </span> <span class="s2"> <em>wasn’t</em> </span> <span class="s1"> just anyone. As was established, False had a </span> <span class="s2"> <em>lot</em> </span> <span class="s1"> of agency. And while she had maybe thought of some of the more difficult spots, she had failed to consider the </span> <span class="s2"> <em>one</em> </span> <span class="s1"> place that would arguably be the worst possible location for </span> <span class="s2"> <em>her</em> </span> <span class="s1"> over all others. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Nether Roof. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The thing about False was that she liked company. She was constantly involved in team events, and she tended to spend a lot of time simply chatting with the other Hermits. Don’t get her wrong, she enjoyed the odd quiet moment to herself, and there were definitely times when her extensive projects kept her from seeing the light of day. It wasn’t uncommon for her to simply disappear for weeks at a time as she holed herself away, digging giant holes to bedrock or otherwise creating massive structures that demanded all of her attention. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">But she </span> <span class="s2"> <em>did</em> </span> <span class="s1"> like her company. She liked being involved in things. She liked to be </span> <span class="s2"> <em>busy</em> </span> <span class="s1">. She was always working on various projects or collaborating with the others, and so long as she maintained this lifestyle of active engagement, False was happy. But the thing about the Nether Roof?</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was none of that here. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">She was literally stuck on a seemingly endless sheet of solid bedrock. No food, no resources, no </span> <span class="s2"> <em>people</em> </span> <span class="s1">. And no way of leaving. Bedrock couldn’t be broken by traditional means, at least, not without some serious TNT pistonry magic. Not that she knew how the trick worked anyway, even if she </span> <span class="s2"> <em>did</em> </span> <span class="s1"> have the proper tools. But as it stood, she had nothing, and no way of changing that. There were no Hermits to interact with, no projects to distract her. There was physically nothing she could do except wait for someone to look for her. She was trapped. But the worst part?</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was so bloody quiet.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">She couldn’t remember ever being in a state of such complete silence. There had just always been sound. At least </span> <span class="s2"> <em>some</em> </span> <span class="s1"> form of sound. The hum of the lights, the howl of the wind, the creak of the floorboards. There was always </span> <span class="s2"> <em>something</em> </span> <span class="s1">. But now there was nothing. She taps her foot against the floor, the touch creating a resounding echo of a boom that reverberates through the air and then dissipates into nothing.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">Well, at least I can still </span> <span class="s3"> <b>make</b> </span> <span class="s2"> sound.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Silence was a bit of a funny thing. It was something that a lot of people craved. It was said to increase concentration, productivity, and sense of calm, among other things. There were hundreds of articles that spoke of the many benefits of silence. </span>But complete silence?</p><p class="p1">That was a different story.</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Complete silence was know to drive you mad. People became disoriented, even prone to hallucinations. The longest a person had ever lasted in complete silence was a grand total of 45 minutes, and while her own space was maybe not </span> <span class="s2"> <em>completely</em> </span> <span class="s1"> sound absorbent, she somehow had a feeling she was going to be stuck there for a LOT longer than 45 minutes.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">Ok. No big deal. I’ll just have to make sure there </span> <span class="s3"> <b>isn’t</b> </span> <span class="s2"> complete silence.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">She could do that, right? If she could still </span> <span class="s2"> <em>make</em> </span> <span class="s1"> sound, then all she had to do was fill the silence every so often and she <em>should</em> be able to keep from going insane. That would work right?</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She clears her throat. “Hello?” The single word echos back at her. “Testing...1, 2, 3...”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">She shakes her head. This wasn’t going to work. If she was concerned about going mad through silence, she was definitely sure that </span> <span class="s2"> <em>talking to herself </em> </span> <span class="s1">wasn’t going to help any. She hums. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>What else can I do...</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She is silent for a moment, contemplating, before an idea pops into her head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>What’s that song the Stranger Things kid always sings...</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Uh...” She clears her throat. <em>“...</em></span> <span class="s2"> <em>should I stay or should I go now</em> </span> <span class="s1"><em>...?”</em> She stops, the sung phrase echoing back at her in the silence, and she shifts awkwardly. She clears her throat again. <em>“</em></span> <span class="s2"><em>...should I stay or should I go now...?”</em> </span> <span class="s1">She looks out across the barren wasteland that was the Nether Roof. </span> <em> <span class="s2">“...If I go there will be trouble...if I stay it will be double...</span> <span class="s1">”</span> </em></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Nope. That wasn’t happening. She sighs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>What other songs do I know...</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">She’d been wandering for some time when she hears it.</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">“</span> <span class="s2">NO</span> <span class="s1">!!”</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">False stops dead in her tracks, startled by the sudden sound. Thus far, she hadn’t heard a single noise aside from her own voice echoing back into the nothingness, and the sudden voice had startled her enough to make her jump back several feet. But that had sounded like-</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stress?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She doesn’t hear anything for a moment more, and then-</span>
</p><p class="p1"><em><span class="s1">“</span><span class="s2">Cub, what the </span> <span class="s4"> <b>Hell</b></span></em> <span class="s1"><em><b>?!</b> ”</em> </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Cub? Cub was there too?</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stress!” She yells, looking around wildly, but she sees nothing. Only the barren landscape before her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">“</span> <span class="s2">I know! I’m sorry!”</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That was Cubs voice this time, quieter than the first shout she had heard, but there was no mistaking it. That was definitely Cubs voice.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Directly below her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Cub! Stress!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She gets on the floor, crawling onto her stomach as she puts her ear directly against the bedrock.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">“</span> <span class="s2">I know, but they drop loot, and my armour was getting low.</span> <span class="s1">”</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Their voices sounded muffled through the sheet of bedrock and quite possibly the several layers of netherrack on the opposing side, but that was undoubtedly them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“CUB! STRESS! CAN YOU HEAR ME?!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>“What’s your hunger at?”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>“Bit less than half. Soul Sand Valleys aren’t exactly rich in the food department.”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">They couldn’t hear her. Why couldn’t they hear her? What was going on? They were hardly raising their voices, and </span> <span class="s2"> <em>she</em> </span> <span class="s1"> could hear </span> <span class="s2"> <em>them</em> </span> <span class="s1"> just fine. So what was going on? Was it some weird Nether mechanic? She listens on.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>“You’re hurt.”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Hurt? Stress was hurt? How? Was she ok?</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>“Nah, that’s old. Brute nicked me, is all.”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">False sighs. </span> <span class="s2"> <em>Old. Old is fine. Stress is fine. Everything is fine.</em> </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">False sits up, pulling her ear from the ground. This was so strange. If this was just some weird mechanic, it was certainly one she’d never heard of before. What sort of mechanic allowed sound to be projected from below to above but not the other way around? Unless...</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She looks down towards the bedrock.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">...Unless it wasn’t a mechanic.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She immediately climbs to her feet, putting as much distance between her head and the rock as possible. She needed to test something, and in order to do that, she was going to need to block out the other voices. She allows her gaze to roam the vastness of nothing for a fraction of a second before freezing in place, holding her body as still as possible and closing her eyes. She breathes deeply, concentrating hard as she focuses entirely on her hearing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>dundun...Dundun...DunDun...DUnDUn...!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">...her heartbeat. That was her heartbeat. She could hear it hammering in her ears, louder and louder, steadily increasing in volume the longer she concentrated on it. But it was strange. She didn’t feel any different. In fact, the beat itself felt steady, normal. Slow even. Like a resting pace. But it was </span> <span class="s2"> <em>loud</em> </span> <span class="s1">. Almost deafening. She couldn’t remember ever hearing her own heart quite so prominently, like she had just run a marathon. But then, it wasn’t like she had even <em>walked</em> very far. Granted, Stress’s initial shout had given her a bit of a start, but the beating wasn’t fast or erratic like she was scared, and in fact she didn’t feel frightened in the least. It was just kind of...normal. She vaguely hears Stress mumble something through the bedrock, and she concentrates harder.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Breathe in...and out...in...and out...in-</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her eyes snap open, her heart suddenly beating much faster than it had a second ago.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Her </span> <span class="s2">lungs</span> <span class="s1">. She had heard her </span> <span class="s2"> <em>lungs</em> </span> <span class="s1">. Expanding and contracting with each breath as they filled with air like some sort of fleshy ballon. She had heard of this happening. When people were immersed in total silence, their ears tended to adjust to minuscule sounds. It was said that people could hear their own organs working, shifting inside of you. Every beat of the heart, every gurgle of the stomach, every breath of air. She had heard of the phenomenon, but to actually </span> <span class="s2"> <em>experience</em> </span> <span class="s1"> it was something entirely different. She looks down at the bedrock beneath her, eyes wide.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">This wasn’t some mechanic. This was </span> <span class="s2"> <em>her</em> </span> <span class="s1">. This <em>place</em>. The silence was already starting to get to her. She had been immersed in it for long enough that her ears were starting to adjust. She could hear </span> <span class="s2"> <em>them</em> </span> <span class="s1"> because their voices were otherwise the only thing that broke the complete and utter silence that was the Nether Roof. </span> <span class="s2"> <em>They</em> </span> <span class="s1">, on the other hand...</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She quickly climbs back onto the floor, putting her ear up against the stone.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>“-ll gone. We should leave soon.”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“NO! I’M HERE! CUB, STRESS, I’M HERE!” She bangs on the floor with her fists, trying to make as much sound as possible. But it’s no use, they can’t hear her. She gets no response, only her own voice echoing back at her into the endless void. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ok, so I know that this semi-scientific explanation is only PARTIALLY correct, but this is Minecraft and I can bend the rules of reality if I want 😅</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. BdoubleO100</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I apologize for the long delay between chapters. It is currently finals season and I have been tackling a billion assignments and exams, but I should be done very soon, and hopefully I will have more time to write within the next couple of weeks.  In the meantime: BDUBS!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Build a base</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s2">, he said. </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s1">It’ll be </span>
    <span class="s3">
      <b>fun</b>
    </span>
  </em>
  <span class="s2">, he said. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Bdubs was going to kick Scars ass.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">It had taken him only a couple of days to take out the remaining two Elder Guardians in order to free the Monument from their reign - a seemingly inconsiderable amount of time, really, considering the task at hand. He had already know the location of one, having stumbled upon it during his initial attempt at escape, but location was only half of the battle ahead.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">After having finally escaped the winding halls of the Monument the first time, Bdubs was none too keen to re-enter the sunken structure, and he </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <em>definitely</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s2"> wasn’t looking forward to the string of inevitable deaths that were sure to follow this task. Respawn might have still been a thing, but that did not mean that dying was any less painful, and drowning was not exactly the quickest way to go. Granted, there were few things that could top the torturous agony of death by lava, but drowning was definitely up there on his list of demise.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The remaining two Elder Guardians would be more difficult than the first. Before, he could simply die and immediately respawn, going straight for it. But now, he would have to make his way through the entire temple in order to get to the correct spot, and then he’d need to actually fight the creature in order to take it out - if he wasn’t killed by the lack of oxygen first. When he could only get in 8 hits before it killed him, with a health of 40, that meant he was going to have to repeat this entire process at least 5 times in a perfect scenario, but with the imminent threat of drowning, he imagined the lack of air might impact his results. Not that he would have a problem </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <em>reaching</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s2"> the monster, after all he had managed that bit fine the first time round. But if he started taking drowning damage before he got in the full 8 hits, he imagined he might need a bit more than 5 rounds of battle, and that wasn’t even taking into account the infestation of </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <em>ordinary</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s2"> Guardians he would need to deal with along the way.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">And this was just for </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <em>one</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s2"> of the creatures. He’d still have to </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <em>find</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s2"> the last one, and god knows how long that would take. Granted, it wasn’t as if the Monument went on forever. There were only so many directions he could go, but when the halls tended to twist and turn this way and that, with circling corridors and passages that lead to nowhere as if trapped in some freaky adaptation of an Escher painting, he tended to get a little, well, </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <em>lost</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s2">.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">But then again, he supposed he wasn’t the </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <em>only </em>
  </span>
  <span class="s2">one that had gotten lost. Bdubs had seen Scars achievements nearly two days after his initial departure, signifying his discovery of land, but that had been ages ago. He had expected Scar to depart from whatever mass of terrain he had discovered the following morning, which should have seen his return another two days following, but Scar hadn’t shown. Nor the next day. Or the next. In fact, it had been a full week since his initial departure from the Monument - still no sign of Scar.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He should have expected as much, really. Scar was a builder, and Scar liked his materials. He was constantly stocked with ridiculous quantities of resources, if the size of his chest monsters where any sort of indicator, and knowing the relatively limited supply they currently possessed, Bdubs suspected the man would probably take this opportunity to get his hands on absolutely everything he possibly could. Knowing Scar, he really shouldn’t have been surprised.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">To a certain extent he understood. Knowing their current predicament, he understood that resources were a particularly valuable commodity at this stage in the game; a commodity they would desperately need if they truly planned to set up base in the middle of the Ocean. But there was only so many things he could possibly fit in his pockets. Inventory space was not infinite, and surly if Scar had been mining this entire time he had to have more than enough resources to fill the slots. So where was he?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Don’t get him wrong, Bdubs had been faring decently thus far. Since slaying the Elder Guardians, he had managed to rid himself of their mining fatigue, which meant he could at least dive down and collect the dirt and sand from the Ocean floor. Some of the Guardians dropped prismarine shards and crystals upon death, which at this stage he could use to craft regular prismarine as well as the brick variant. Even sand could be formed into at least a couple versions of sandstone, which at least provided him with a bit more of a substantial block pallet outside of just sand, gravel, and dirt. All things considered, he actually had some decent looking blocks at his disposal. And he had been using said blocks to do just as Scar had instructed - build a base.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Their first decrepit dirt shack of a shelter had long since been removed, and in its place now stood the foundation of what Bdubs hoped to one day turn into a beautiful prismarine castle. The structure was still in its infancy, mind. There were no winding staircases leading to tall spires or long hallways that stretched on to all corners of the building or really any form of intricate decoration like plants or paintings or carpets. <em>Yet</em>. In fact, at the moment, it was just the one room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Atop the centre of the Monument, he had constructed the beginnings of what almost looked like an adaptation of a Throne Room, with ordinary Prismarine walls, decorated with prismarine brick pillars and supports, and a simple sandstone flooring. He had built the outline of a doorframe into one of the curved walls, and each of the other three had received the minimalist framework of a throne. Aside from these, the only real decoration that had been done was the startings of a King Arthur esk round table built directly above the centre of the Monument. A structure which, along with the other furniture, remained mostly unfinished, lacking the materials he desired for their complete construction. He had hoped to one day maybe even transform the the roof into a sort of domed glass, creating a sort of glass observatory, but until Scar returned he had no access to any form of smelter, and as it stood the roof had been covered up with whatever materials he had on hand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He had done the barest minimum of patterning on the floor, carving a circular formation into the centre using an alternating pattern of prismarine bricks and blocks, as well as a few curved lines of the same material tracing the outer walls, but aside from that, there wasn’t much he could do with his severely limited resources. Granted, the current structure was a marked improvement from the last. There was a roof over his head, so at least the Phantoms couldn’t get to him, and it’s general size meant that he could at least walk around. Scar had even left him the few bits of coal and bamboo he had retrieved from his shipwreck, so he at least had access to a few torches for some light. He’d even managed to procure an iron sworn and a few mismatched pieces of armour from the zombies that patrolled the grounds at night, the creatures often spawning on the outer platforms on which he had yet to build or light up at all. Really, all things considered, he was faring rather well.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">That being said, he really hoped Scar hurried up soon.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He might have had access to more materials than he originally thought, but when his primary building block was prismarine, any form of progress tended to take a while. He first had to slay the Guardians to get the shards, and then he’d needed to craft them into the correct material, and then he’d needed to actually use them for building. And when the material was stone related, with no pickaxe, that meant he had to be extra careful with his placements. Until Scar returned, there was no room for trial and error. Once a block was placed, that was it. It couldn’t be moved. That, and it wasn’t as if he had any form of looting or sharpness enchantments on his various half-worn-out swords he had obtained from various zombies. Guardians were more than a little bit awkward to kill underwater, and even then they weren’t guaranteed to drop the correct loot, if any. Progress was slow, but he supposed even slow progress was still progress. The addition of the swords plus the various pieces of armour he went through at least offered him </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <em>some</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s2"> protection against the Guardians, and this meant he was at least a </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <em>little</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s2"> less likely to die when he went to take them out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">But Bdubs was starting to get a little bit restless. He didn’t mind so much during the day when he could work on things that distracted him. But during the night, when he was forced to seek shelter alone under the haphazard roof of his barely started castle, he started to get a bit agitated. It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful for the break - building was a long process and sometimes it was good to sit back and relax for a moment. It’s just that he had always slept through the night. He didn’t even want to deal with the </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <em>ordinary</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s2"> mobs, let along the damn demon birds that now plagued the dark. It was one of the main reasons he always jumped for a bed the second the sun made an inkling of setting. Sure, he liked his sleep, but when the dark brought with it hoards of mobs that stalked the streets with thoughts of murder, he wasn’t taking any chances. He had always just slept through the chaos.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Which meant that he never had to experience the </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <em>screams</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s2">.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He sits with his back against the wall, hands firmly covered over his ears as he does his best to block out the </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <em>horrible horrible screams</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s2">. Even through the walls he can hear the hoards of zombies groaning outside of his barricaded door, the sickening hiss of scuttling spiders that scaled the outer walls, the clack of bones of reanimated skeletons that patrolled the grounds until the light of day.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">But worst of all was the damn </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <em>screaming</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s2">. All night the Phantoms would circle above, as if undead vultures stalking their prey. And their screeches were </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <em>horrifying</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s2">, like the screams of the damned released from hell, as if their very bodies were possessed by the lost souls seeking vengeance. He hears the heavy flapping of wings above him, like an Angel of darkness come to take him away, and he presses his hands over his ears more firmly. These weren’t just your run of the mill monsters. This was death. Death had come, and it was here for him. He squints his eyes shut as he tries to block out the sound.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“Go away, go away, go away, go away, g-</span><em><b>ahH</b></em>!” He jumps. The screaming had gotten louder. The creatures all simultaneously scream in pain as they are burnt by the sun, and his hands remain firmly over his ears until the last of their horrible groaning has finally subsided.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He waits a few minutes, giving whatever Creepers might still be about the time to despawn before pulling himself to his feet and trudging tiredly towards the barricaded door. No bed had meant more than just Phantoms. He might not have needed sleep in the traditional sense here, but that did not mean he was any less tired, and the few nights he had already gone through could hardly be qualified as rest.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He breaks down the dirt barricade of a door and steps outside into the morning air. His eyes felt so dry, and the morning sun does nothing to hide the prominent bags now forming beneath them. He reaches upwards with his right hand to rub at his eyes reflexively, his left reaching for the hilt of his sword, and he yawns widely.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Well, back to work.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He really hoped Scar returned soon. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Xisuma</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In this chapter I use “Zombified Piglin” and “Pigmen” kind of interchangeably because “Zombified Piglin” sounded hella long when used a lot in succession, so just know they are the same thing.  </p><p>Also warnings for brief mentions of death by lava, but none that occur in this particular chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Xisuma was starting to get a little bit impatient. He could no longer say how long he had been working at his bridge, but he was pretty sure it was safe to say it had felt like a </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>long</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> time.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bridge itself was now long enough that standing on its end would no longer see the outline of his island, and yet it still felt as if he had made no progress. The magma blocks took 4 magma cream, obtaining which was an insufferably slow process, and corralling the Magma Cubes was more than a bit of a nightmare. It wasn’t as if a lot of them ever spawned, and when there was only so many places he could move, this tended to effect the ones that </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>did</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">, making it harder for them to spot him the farther out they were. He had even resorted to jumping into the lava, hoping the extra bit of distance from the island would allow more of the monsters to notice him, and thus attract them towards the island.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This had <em>sort</em> of worked for a while, but he had given up the method pretty quickly. After all, death by lava was far from pleasant, and while it might not have been the most drawn out death in the grande scheme of things, that short length of contact felt like pure </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>Hell</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> for the couple of seconds it took for the lava to completely disintegrate the skin.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had been walking the length of the bridge for what felt like the hundredth time when he spots something out of the corner of his eye.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was a strider off in the distance, the creature mulling about in the lava </span>
  <span class="s2">just</span>
  <span class="s1"> beyond his reach. Now, a strider on its own might not have seemed overly out of the ordinary. In fact they were a quite common sight to behold here on his secluded island in the middle of nowhere. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">To be fair, the Nether Wastes was a biome that would arguably spawn the largest variety of mobs of all the Nether variants. He had obviously been making full use of the Magma Cubes in order to build his bridge, and Striders were more than a common enough occurrence in the background. Zombified Piglins were also a common sight upon the island, along with the ordinary Piglins. He had actually lucked out in this department in that the Piglins happened to take damage from the magma blocks, unlike their zombie counterparts, and so long as he stayed upon his bridge, he was relatively safe from their wrath. He had even taken on the odd Ghast before he had the thought to distribute a few magma blocks upon the surface of his island, breaking up any available spawning space for the mobs. Really, the only way he would have had access to more mobs would have been if there was somehow a fortress close by.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">No, mobs were not rare, and so the strider on its own was not at all particularly surprising. And indeed, it was not the mob itself that had peeked his interest, despite his love of the creatures.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was its </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>rider</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Several feet in from of him, he can see the lone Strider, just being able to make out the barest shape of a saddle atop its back. And sitting there? A single Zombified Piglin, fishing rod in hand, and tied to its end was a single warped fungus suspended on a string.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This was it. This was his ticket out of here. If he could get his hands on that strider and the rod, he could just hop aboard and be done with all of this magma bridge nonsense. He could literally just use the Strider to walk right over the lava. He just needed to find a way to get it to come closer to him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A Zombified Piglin walks passed him on the bridge and his eyes follow it as it goes, darting between it and the other still atop the Strider some several yards away. He sighs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s2">I </span>
    <span class="s3">
      <b>really</b>
    </span>
    <span class="s2"> hope there’s no Pigmen close to the others...</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And without another thought, he walks up to the pig closest and smacks it on the shoulder.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Immediately the creatures let’s out a squeal of rage, and X does his best to fend it off, backing up along his bridge. But it had done its job. The monsters squeal had alerted the others in the vicinity, and several other Pigmen are now charging towards him along the bridge. He ducks out of the way of an oncoming sword, swiftly hitting the pig in front of him with a sharp uppercut, and he glances out towards the Strider to see-</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t following him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">
    <em>Oh come on.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He feels the blade of a sword nick the side of his shoulder and his head immediately swivels back around, zoning back in to the fight at had. Behind the current Pigmen he can see another 3 approaching from behind, golden swords at the ready, and running directly towards him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’d just made a Hell zone for himself. A fairly substantial feat, really, considering that he was kind of sort of already in Hell. He’d thought that attacking the other Pigmen would agro the Striders rider, but the creature in question seemed rather unbothered by him. And what’s worse, he now had a small hoard of Pigmen after him, and when he was literally standing on a bridge of hot coals, it wasn’t as if he could just run away; he’d start taking damage.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Although honestly at this point it almost couldn’t hurt. With this many Pigmen after him, he honestly didn’t see how he was going to get out of this one alive anyway. But then, was that..? Did he really see..? He had! The Strider had moved closer towards him. He wrestles with the Pigman, holding the sword at bay, using his foot to kick at the still approaching monsters from behind as he keeps his eye on the form of the strider.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">
    <em>Come on...just a bit further...that’s it, come on...a bit more...<b>there</b>!</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He breaks away from the standing Pigman long enough to reach out and whack the one atop the Strider. He gets a jab in the stomach for his efforts, but it had taken the hit. If he could just get it to take a bit more damage...</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He hits the frontline Pigman on the bridge and it collapses, keeling over dead as it is immediately replaced by the one behind, and he backs up several steps.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He repeats this process several times, dodging back and forth as the Zombified Piglins continue their assault, biding his time as he continues to wait for the Strider to wander back into range, hitting the Pigman again and again until he gets the final hit.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The rider falls, it’s body collapsing sideways before disappearing in a puff of smoke, and Xisuma leaps, jumping off the edge of the bridge as he makes a desperate grab for the rod before it can be destroyed by the lava below. And for a brief moment it is as if time itself is at a stand still, as if the world is moving in slow motion as the hoard of Pigmen slowly converge upon the spot where he had once stood. And Xisuma is suspended there, hovering mid-air as his fingertips close around the pole of the fishing rod.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then he is falling. Straight down over nothing but the pool of lava, and for a very brief moment, one that seems to last an eternity, Xisuma is genuinely afraid that he has just lost it all. And with a last ditch effort, he looks up towards the form of the Strider standing mere feet away, and he makes a last desperate reach.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s2">Xisuma has just made the advancement </span>
    <span class="s3">
      <b>[This boat has legs]</b>
    </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So I discovered a thing during a testing period today! Apparently Zombified Piglins have zero control when riding striders, even when agro, and they just kind of wander around aimlessly and will hit you if they happen to wander by but they won’t actually steer the striders towards you.  Who knew 😅</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. ZombieCleo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, I wrote this chapter before the confirmation of the fact that having a spawn in the End does actually in fact prevent you from ever leaving the End, but I need both of them to be in the Overworld for future plot purposes and I didn’t particularly want to re-write the whole plot, so we just gonna pretend for now that it’s possible for them to actually leave. I might add an in story explanation later, but for now we have this 😅</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"><span class="s1">Joe hadn’t been in her Stronghold. Or Rens. As they had predicted, the pair had been sent to separate structures, and the two had met up at their designated coordinates some several days after their initial departure. Here, they had managed to scrounge together the ingredients for a Nether portal, having then travelled to yet </span> <span class="s2"><em>another</em> </span> <span class="s1">dimension where they had managed to procure enough blaze powder to produce at least a couple stacks of ender eyes. They had then used these to locate yet another Stronghold.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Joe hadn’t been there either.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo had know it was a slim chance from the beginning. There was roughly 128 Strongholds that could spawn in any given world, which meant that there was roughly a 1 in 128 chance that the one they picked was the correct location. And they had searched this one top to bottom. No sign of Joe. Cleo sighs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They hadn’t bothered searching the Nether for its occupants.Based purely off of death messages and achievements, they knew that at least Cub, Stress, and Xisuma were there, but aside from mere speculation at their biome of origin, the trio could have been anywhere within the dimension. There wasn’t much of a lead to go on.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe we’ve just walked circles around him or something? It’s possible we’ve just missed him. Maybe we should take another look?” Ren suggests, as if to make her feel better. As if he can somehow sense the hope within her steadily fading away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo shakes her head. “No. This isn’t the one. Joe’s smart, he would have left some sign that he’d been here.” She sighs dejectedly. “We might as well head up.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Never one to lose faith, Ren quickly skips along to join her, putting his hands in his pockets. “Don’t worry! We’ll find him eventually!” He smiles widely. “It’s not like Strongholds spawn infinitely, and we’ve already knocked 3 off the list. And each Stronghold we knock off just means that the next one has a higher chance of being the right one! We’re winning at this baby!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She never understood how he always managed to stay so upbeat. Ren was such an overall chill human being. She glances across to see the bright smile across his face, as if the man was perfectly content with life. As if nothing in the world could faze him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Cleo had never been that optimistic.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Logically speaking, she knew he had a point. Strongholds didn’t spawn infinitely, and even though the 3 they had already explored had turned out to be duds, that only meant they were closer to finding the right one.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">But Cleo was a realist. Joe hadn’t died in quite some time, and just because the last time she had seen his death message it had been to Silverfish, that didn’t </span> <span class="s2"> <em>necessarily</em> </span> <span class="s1"> mean he had been in a Stronghold. Silverfish could also spawn in mountains, and even though it was less likely that he were to die to one there, it was still a possibility. Even if Joe </span> <span class="s2"><em>had</em></span> <span class="s1"> been in a Stronghold, there was no guarantee he was still there now. But as of that moment, that single death to a silverfish was their strongest lead. And thanks to the locational abilities of the eyes of ender, it was a lead that also happened to be trackable.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Provided of course Joe had stayed put.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo sighs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey.” Cleo turns to see Ren looking over at her, an expression of concern playing upon his normally carefree features, as if he can somehow read her thoughts. “Joe’s smart. Smart enough to not die to a bunch of Silverfish on accident, even it there was like 5 of them or something. He has to know someone would work out his location from that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I dunno. Joe is pretty bad with a sword.” Cleo smiles despite herself. “I’m pretty sure he could find a way to die from a llama.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ren smiles. “I suppose it’s a good thing there’s no llamas in a Stronghold then.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">The pair emerge from their cave to a vast desert of sand. From the position of the sun, it appears to be about midday, which wasn’t horrible. They could still travel a fair distance before the sun set, but the desert was vast and large, and neither knew how long it would stretch on for. And</span> the open desert at nightfall was probably the last place anyone wanted to be.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Where to, chief?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo reaches into her pocket and produces another eye of ender before throwing it into the sky, the orb immediately taking off due east across the horizon. Cleo shrugs. “Guess we’re going this way.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The orbs don’t lie mama!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That was wrong on so many levels.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The pair follow after the retreating form of the green eye across the vast expanse of desert. There wasn’t particularly much to collect here aside from sand and the occasional cactus, and of course there was the blistering heat to consider, but that was about it. In fact, the sun was just starting to set on the horizon, and Cleo was about to suggest that they make camp, when she is suddenly interrupted by a loud exclamation from Ren.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Look!”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Cleo follows his gaze, the man pointing directly ahead of them into the distance. She half hoped to find another Hermit standing there, but what she sees instead is something that makes her </span> <span class="s2"> <em>almost</em> </span> <span class="s1"> as happy.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was a desert village straight ahead.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Which meant there were beds to sleep in. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Logically speaking, she knew that they wouldn’t be able to skip the night unless everyone else was also in bed, which tended to be made a little problematic when there was multiple people who had spawned in a dimension where it was explosive to sleep. Even then, there was enough people in general that even coordinating with those that </span> <span class="s2"> <em>were</em> </span> <span class="s1"> in the Overworld was, for lack of a better term, a bit of a nightmare. And when they couldn’t use their communicators to, well, </span> <span class="s2"> <em>communicate</em> </span> <span class="s1">, night skipping just didn’t happen.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But this didn’t mean they still couldn’t sleep, and the pair had been awake long enough that they both definitely had Phantoms on them. That, and Cleo was more than a little exhausted after the long trek they had made. Ren was faring no better than her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They enter the village just as night begins to fall, taking an extra minute to light up the area, before splitting off into separate houses and barricading the entrance. There were a few iron golem’s around, and they had probably lit up the area extensively enough to avoid mobs spawning there, but they weren’t taking any chances. All it took was one stray zombie breaking down the door in their sleep and they would be back to square one.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo takes a moment to survey her surroundings. The house she had chosen had been small, with 4 sandstone walls surrounding a single, green bed. Off to the left of the room was what looked to be a set of 2, simple sandstone chairs, placed on either side of an equally simple sandstone table, on the top of which sat what once might have been a potted plant, but it looked to have long since died and turned brown. Aside from the basic furnishings, there was nothing else in the building save a single torch suspended over the doorway, and a small length of sandstone flooring that barely had enough space to be walked upon.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She walks the two steps it takes her to reach the bed, shaking the sand from the outer blanket, before climbing beneath the covers. The sheets feel scratchy against her skin, and she wonders if this is simply the overall material composition, or the more likely account that the gravely desert had simply taken up a more permanent residence in the surrounding furniture. She wouldn’t have particularly described the experience as a comfortable one, but the woman had gone so long without rest that she was almost at the point where she simply didn’t care, and before long she had drifted off to sleep.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She wakes the following morning to find Ren already up, the man currently tilling the fields of one of the village gardens, collecting the fruits of his labour before replanting the crops once again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey.” She calls, approaching the gardens, stretching her arms above her head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good morning!” Ren replies happily, turning to smile brightly at her as she approached, revealing a smear of dirt across his left cheek. “Did you sleep well?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo cracks her neck, pulling on her arm until her shoulder produces an audible pop. “Not particularly. How long have you been up?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ren shrugs. “Not long. I figured we might as well stock up on food while we’re here. We don’t know for how long the desert continues on.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right. We should probably raid the rest of the village before we leave as well. Get all the supplies we can.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ren nods before producing a loaf of bread from the depth of his pocket, tossing her the item. “Here, have some breakfast.” She catches the item, looking at him quizzically. “My house had a chest with some bread and some coal.” He explains.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cleo nods, taking a bite of the offered food. It was going to be a long day of walking ahead of them, and she was grateful for the sustenance.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They had agreed to split up, tackling the village thematically. Cleo would start at one end, and Ren at the other. They would then converge inwards, sweeping each house in tow, before they would finally meet in the middle. This seemed the best way to ensure there was no house left unturned, and no chest left un-looted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Overall, there wasn’t too much to be found. Ren had already gathered most of the crops, and the vast quantities of hay bales they had acquired would be a relatively steady supply of bread, which just left the houses to be searched.Thus far, Cleo had gathered some coal and some more bread, a few pieces of paper, some wheat, and a few sticks, but aside from the odd handful or so of emeralds, there wasn’t particularly anything overly valuable.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Until she stumbles upon a specific house. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ren!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ren shows up within seconds, hands hanging on the top of the doorframe as he pokes his head inside the house.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s up, Cleo mama?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Cleo blinks. “Ok firstly, </span> <span class="s2"> <em>no</em> </span> <span class="s1">. Never say that again. Like </span> <span class="s2"> <em>ever</em> </span> <span class="s1">. Just </span> <span class="s2"> <em>no</em> </span> <span class="s1">.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right, sorry, my bad. What’s up?” He corrects himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Take a look at this guy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ren looks at the villager Cleo had managed to trap inside, the woman in question now smiling brightly as she waits for him to examine her discovery. He frowns.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“...A cartographer?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not just any cartographer. Look at his second trade.” Cleo smiles. “Joe isn’t the only person who we know their rough location.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ren examines the villager more closely, paying more attention to his trades. More specifically it’s first tier 2 trade in the list. “...a map?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Not just </span> <span class="s2"> <em>any</em> </span> <span class="s1"> map.” Cleo huffs in annoyance. “Hold on.” She rummages through her pockets for a moment before producing a fistful of emeralds, handing the gems to the villager, which then proceeds to hand her the map she so desired. “Here.” She holds the paper out for Ren to take.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Of course, objectively speaking, she knew that this plan would have the same problems as their last. Most of the generated structures could spawn anywhere across the world in a vast amount of varying quantities. Realistically, this map could take them to any one of the multitude of structures, and each cartographer only sold the specific map to </span> <span class="s2"> <em>one</em> </span> <span class="s1"> of these locations. The fact that this particular villager </span> <span class="s2"> <em>happened</em> </span> <span class="s1"> to sell a map to a particular structure could very well have been a moot point, because while it might have carried the map to </span> <span class="s2"> <em>a</em> </span> <span class="s1"> structure of interest, that didn’t necessarily mean it carried </span> <span class="s2"> <em>the</em> </span> <span class="s1"> map they were looking for. Even still, this had been the first time they had come across a village, and while the odds of this being the correct map were slim, there was a </span> <span class="s2"> <em>chance</em> </span> <span class="s1">. A chance that rekindles the fire of motivation inside of her. Even if it wasn’t the correct structure, it was only one map - they might as well chock it off the list.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who do we know that’s been slain by Guardians?” Cleo smiles. “Bdubs is at an Ocean Monument.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Grian</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Not me over here working on literally every other chapter but this one 😅</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rails, rails, torch, redstone.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">
    <em>Worthless</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Grian pushes the mine cart away from himself with a huff, the object clattering backwards along its track to where it eventually comes to a stop, bumping the wall lightly with a soft </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>ting</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> of metal.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had elected to stay in the mines for the time being, taking the opportunity that spawning underground had presented to do a bit of honest caving. He didn’t particularly see the point of returning to the surface just yet. The supports of the mineshaft had already provided him with the wood needed for the construction of some basic tools, and the multitude of chests had provided enough bread for a general means of sustenance. He’d even managed a few pieces of mismatched armour courtesy of the local zombies, and he’d happened across enough iron to scrounge together the materials for a half decent sword. Really, he was doing quite well for himself here.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Or he </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>would</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> have been if the damn chests would actually give him anything of value.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>hoped</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> the mineshaft would provide him with a decent assortment of loot, but thus far he had yet to find anything of apparent value. And he had been at this for hours, going through tunnel after tunnel, mine cart after mine cart, and opening chest after chest of </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>junk</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rails, redstone, torch, </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>redstone</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">, bread, </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>oh look some more </em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"><em>redstone</em>. No emeralds, no gold, not a </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>single</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> diamond to be found.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Grian sighs, reaching into his pocket and producing one of the multitude of loaves of bread he now possessed. He wasn’t particularly hungry. Not really anyway. He really just wanted something to do. Anything to break up the monotony of trudging through shaft after shaft of abandoned mine by himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had never liked strip mining. Or mining in general really. It was mindless, and dull, and he really just didn’t have the scrutiny for it. He had the attention span of a goldfish, which was why he tended to have so many projects going on at the same time. Once he got bored with one, he tended to just sort of...move on. He’d leave it and do something else. Anyone that actually watched him work could attest to his general faffery, and the other Hermits were certainly not strangers to his shenanigans and general tomfoolery that went on whenever he grew bored with a task - which was often. But he had his methods, and they worked well enough for him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But caving was just kind of a lonely task. He knew it was an early starting necessity, but that did not mean he disliked it any less.He hated being underground, where he felt cut off from the world, from his friends. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>capable</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">. He had definitely done his fair share of mining in the past. But the caves felt stuffy and cramped, and the atmosphere contrasted harshly with his usual lifestyle. Grian had always been a free spirit. It was one of the reasons he liked flying so much.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And another reason why he hated caving. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He continues forward, ripping off a piece of bread with his teeth. He wrinkles his nose. The bread was hard and stale, almost dusty, as if it had been sitting in storage for half a century. But then, he realized, it probably had. No one had probably been down here in ages, which meant that any long forgotten supplies he happened to come across had been there for a </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>while</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">. He briefly wonders what sort of incident must have occurred in order for the mine to be abandoned so. Tunnel collapse? Rodent infestation? Balrog? Space octopus?!</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He opens another chest and frowns.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s2">Or more likely that whoever was here last knew that this mine was </span>
    <span class="s3">
      <b>bloody empty.</b>
    </span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He huffs again, closing the lid of the chest once more. He can hear the tell tale hiss of spiders from somewhere in the vicinity, and he holds his torch aloft, its orange fire illuminating the tunnel with its flickering glow. He cuts down a cobweb from his path and a bat descends from the ceiling, taking off down the tunnel in a flurry of flaps and squeaks, but the passage otherwise looked empty.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He takes a step forward, glancing around the wooden supports of the tunnel, but nothing happens. He sees nothing. He shrugs, taking another step forward.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And a spider lands on his head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Immediately his arm moves as if to block it, but it’s too late. It had gotten him. He can feel the poison spreading throughout his bloodstream, the skin of his shoulder burning from where the creature had bitten him, and he stumbles forward in a daze. He suddenly felt off balance, disoriented, as if he couldn’t think straight. Poison might not have been able to kill on its own, but it messed with the mind. People grew confused, unsteady, and his head begins to feel fuzzy, as if it were stuffed with cotton. The spider hisses.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He does his best to run forwards, fumbling over his feet every step of the way as he goes, waving his sword wildly in an attempt to hit his attacker. If he could just get his eyes to focus...</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Another spider approaches from the side, knocking him into its web and he flails miserably, trying to free himself from the sticky silk as he makes another swipe at the creature. Another spider rounds the corner with a sickening hiss and he kicks out at the creatures with his feet.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">
    <em>Where are all of these spiders coming from?!</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pulls his arm free, bopping a spider on the head with his sword as more continue to approach.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No!”</span>
  <span class="s2"> <em>Bop!</em></span>
  <span class="s1"> “Bad!” </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>Kick.</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> Another three make their way around the corner and he groans. “</span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>Whyyyy?!</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">” A spider bites his ankle and he slashed it with his sword. “</span>
  <span class="s2"><em>Leaaaave</em>.</span>
  <span class="s1">” He fends off another two, stumbling around a corner to where he finally spots their source. A cave spider spawner.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And a </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>whole lot</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> of cave spiders.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">
    <em>Lovely.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He doesn’t waste any time, immediately grabbing hold of his torch and tossing it in the direction of the spawner, the object clattering to the ground directly beside the cage. He just needed them to stop spawning. Cave spiders didn’t have many health points, especially when he was currently wielding an iron sword, but there was so many of them, and he needed them to stop poisoning him long enough to clear his head and </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>focus</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He kills two and pushes back a third, another taking advantage of his divided attention to launch a strike from behind. He winces, immediately spinning around and knocking the spider back with his sword like a club, sending the creature flying across the room. He shakes his head as if to clear it, once again wobbling at the feel of the fresh poison now pumping through his bloodstream.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He backs himself into a corner, hoping the wall will prevent anymore sneak attacks from behind, and he takes out the remaining spiders, one by one, until eventually he has slain them all.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He gives himself a moment to rest, waiting for the remaining poison effects to wear off and his head to clear before taking a deep breath. He looks around the room. There’s a single chest on the far wall, and he smiles excitedly. It was about time he got some good loot. He’d been rummaging through the absolute <em>trash</em> of the mine cart chests for long enough that the prospect of claiming a half decent prize was more than a little exhilarating.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He paces the length of the room, kneeling down and opening the lid of the chest.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His face falls.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>What am I supposed to do with all this redstone?!</em>”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Cubfan135</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In which I had zero idea what to write for the entire first half so we have some witchcraft, some astronomy, and Stress is a Druid because I said so 😅</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright, I spy with my little eye something that is...green.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cub turns towards his companion, raising an eyebrow with a smirk as he watches the woman survey her surroundings. Stress takes a moment to look out across the landscape before responding. “Is it a tree?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stress grins, clapping her hands gleefully. “Ok, my turn! I spy something that is...” she looks out across the sea of forest, her gaze inevitably landing on one of the twisting trunks with a frown. “Uh...vertically long?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is it me?” Cub offers her a cheeky grin and she chuckles lightly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tree.” Cub shoves his hands in his pockets, looking at the horizon once more. “Ok, I spy something that...has...bark...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let me guess, is it another tree?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Ah, but </span> <span class="s2"> <em>which</em> </span> <span class="s1"> tree is the question.”</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Oh, we gettin’ </span> <span class="s2"> <em>specific</em> </span> <span class="s1"> now are we?”</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">An Enderman teleports in front of them and Stress jumps back several feet with a squeak, the woman immediately looking back over her shoulder as if expecting signs of attackers, but she sees nothing. Only the forest stretching out behind her. She huffs in annoyance. </span> <span class="s2">“Ugh. <em>Stop. Doing. That.</em>”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cub chuckles. “Not one for the Nether, I take it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“</span> <span class="s2"> <em>No!</em> </span> <span class="s1"> It’s ‘orrible! Just <em>look</em> at the place, it’s freaking me out Cub!”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cub raises an eyebrow. “You realize this is like the safest biome here, right?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, but the bloody trees are freaking me out! It ain’t natural! What’s it gotta be so quiet for?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“</span> <span class="s2"> <em>That’s</em> </span> <span class="s1"> what’s bothering you right now?”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well what sort o’ forests you been in that don’t make any sound ‘cept for the moaning of them Endermans and their stupid footsteps that follow you everywhere?” Cub raises an eyebrow. Stress blinks. “I’m jumpy alright? I don’t like things that moan in me ear and jump out and things.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cub rakes a hand through his hair. “I just wanna get out of this damn heat, it’s awful.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I dunno, I don’t mind it so much.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Cub blinks. “You mean you’re </span> <span class="s2"> <em>not</em> </span> <span class="s1"> dying right now?”</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Stress glances over at her companion, a half-amused sort of smirk playing at the corners of her lips. “I’m a Druid luv. Ya know, </span> <span class="s2"> <em>one with the elements</em> </span> <span class="s1"> and all that.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So what, you just like don’t feel temperature?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stress shrugs. “I mean I do, I guess I’m just not really that fussed by it, ya know?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can’t say I relate...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She throws him an inquisitive look, the pair continuing to trudge onwards through the twisting trees of the Warped Forest. “Didn’t you used to live in a desert or somefing?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“In a desert, yeah, not in the pits of Hell.” He scuffs his feet along the ground, his shoulders slumping in a tired sort of fashion as he trails behind the woman. “Besides, deserts get cold at night, it’s not like I lived in a state of constant heat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s really boverin’ you, ain’t it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re seriously not even a little bit hot?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Eh, I’m not fussed.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cub groans. Stress grins. They walk in silence for a while longer before Cub speaks again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So how does it work?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stress turns to look at him. “Ay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You not being bothered by heat.” He clarifies. “How does that work?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stress shrugs. “It’s just basic elements really. More to do with nature. I can’t make something from nothing, but I can use the elements to get various things that I need.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He glances sideways at the woman who indeed looked to be completely unperturbed by the apparent humidity of the atmosphere. In fact, she looked much the same as she always did. Bright, bubbly, energetic. He could almost see a legitimate bounce to her step. He wipes a bead of sweat from his brow, groaning internally at the incessant heat. “Alright, and what does fire give you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Energy.” She replies instantly. “Fire fosters connection. It nourishes the body and soul. It’s the element of enthusiasm, warmth, </span> <span class="s2"> <em>life</em> </span> <span class="s1">.” Cub raises an eyebrow, and Stress hums, pondering on a turn of phrase. “I mean...think of a star, right.” She decides eventually. “It lives only so long as it remains hot enough to fuse the elements at its core, yeah?”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cub shrugs. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hydrogen fuses into Helium. Helium fuses into Carbon. It’s like fuel.” She carries on.“The heat is its life force. When it’s no longer hot enough to fuse the elements, the star will die. The heat you feel is just energy.” She smiles lightly, placing her hands behind her head as she breathes in the atmosphere happily. “It’s more refreshing really, I think it’s nice.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Makes one of us...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stress stops suddenly and Cub almost ploughs into her, just managing to catch himself before he can crash into the woman. He’s about to ask her why they had stopped when she turns around, holding a hand out towards him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come here.” Cub glances at her outstretched hand warily. Stress laughs. “Come on, I don’t bite luv.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cub holds his hand out gingerly towards the woman. “This isn’t payback for hitting you with that arrow, is it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stress rolls her eyes, but smiles. “Just hold still.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She reaches forward, deftly placing one hand on his right shoulder, the other moving to rest on the top of his head, her thumb pushing lightly against the centre of his forehead. She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath, and then she is still.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Almost immediately the heat leaves him, as if being drawn from his skin, and he takes a deep breath. Several moments later Stress removes her hand, taking a step back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Better?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cub blinks. “Yeah. What did you do?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just extracted some of the heat from your body.” She shrugs. “I mean, it’s not permanent or anything,” she adds quickly,“I can’t just make the heat vanish into nothing, so like your skin is definitely going to absorb it again, but it might make you feel a little bit better. At least for the time being.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thanks.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The pair continue to walk along, chatting idly as they discuss possible locations for the others, before eventually stopping on the edge of a lava bank, unable to continue in the direction they had before. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Where to now?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cub looks along down the bank, spotting a pair of Striders sitting just off the coast and he smiles.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I knew I grabbed these for a reason.” Cub reaches into his pockets, producing 2 miniature sized saddles from their depths and presenting them to the woman. “Fancy a ride?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Stress’ eyes grow wide. “On </span> <span class="s2"> <em>that</em> </span> <span class="s1">?”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah! Come on! It’s just like riding a horse.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Yeah, a horse over </span> <span class="s2"> <em>lava</em> </span> <span class="s1"><em>.</em>”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They’re lava proof.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“</span> <span class="s2"> <em>I’m</em> </span> <span class="s1"> not.” Stress stands on the edge of the lake, looking down into the lava warily, as if inspecting its depths. She takes a step back and Cub pulls out a crafting table, looking at her quizzically as he proceeds to craft two fishing rods and tying a warped fungus to each end.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You never been on a Strider?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“I don’t ever come </span> <span class="s2"> <em>in</em> </span> <span class="s1"> here, Cub. Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the Nether ain’t really me cup a tea.” Cub walks towards the striders, holding his fishing rod aloft as he herds the pair towards the woman, and Stress eyeballs the creatures distrustfully.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’ll be fine, promise.” He holds the spare rod out for her to take.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Cubfan135 has just earned the advancement <b>[This boat has legs]</b></em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cub looks over at her expectantly, and Stress throws the creature one last uncertain look before walking towards it, shrieking as she feels the beast sink into the lava ever so slightly as she settles herself on its back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>Stressmonster101 has just earned the advancement <b>[This boat has legs]</b></em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cub smiles. “See? It’s easy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh god...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They had been wandering for some time before they spot something off in the distance.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What is that?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cub squints, steering his beast towards the shape in the lava. “Looks like some kind of island.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Although if it was indeed an island, it was certainly the smallest island he had ever seen. It looked small enough that one could walk from one end to the other in only a few bounds, but it wasn’t its size that had intrigued him. It was what was sitting on top.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Atop the surface of Netherrack was a series of magma blocks, but they were certainly not in any natural formation he had ever seen. Magma blocks normally generated in veins or chunks, but these were isolated, certainly not condensed in any one spot. In fact, they looked to have made a perfect grid across the entire surface of the island.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That magma can’t be natural, can it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not likely.” He steers his Strider closer, dismounting once he had reached the odd terrain and walking to inspect the nearest magma block. He takes in the pattern for a moment before speaking. “It’s spawn proofing.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The Ghasts.” He clarifies. “They need a 5 by 4 by 5 clear space and a block below them to spawn. Look at the spacing.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stress looks at the grid, counting the blocks between, before her face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Someone was here! But where are they now?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No idea. But I mean, we can at least be pretty sure of which way they were headed.” He jabs a thumb in the direction of a straight line of magma leading away from the island.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I mean, that’s as good a lead as any, right?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cub jumps back onto his Strider. “Let’s go.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But they hadn’t traveled long. They had indeed followed the magma bridge to the best of their abilities, long after the island had dropped out of sight. But they had hit a snag when the trail just...stopped.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stress looks over at him. “How does that work? It can’t just...end.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stress’ Strider chirps and Cub glances down at the creature. He looks into the distance to see a group of wild Striders splashing happily in the lava, looking between the end of the magma bridge and the otherwise empty looking lake, and he is struck by a wave of realization. Cub smiles.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Xisuma.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes the entire reason the last Cub chapter exists was because I needed him to get saddles from somewhere 😅</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. GoodTimesWithScar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, I meant for this chapter to come out like two days ago but I have been messing around in my minecraft world for WAY too long trying to design this Bdubs castle thing. Building is hARD</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b> <em>SPLASH</em></b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">A wave of water crashes over the front of the boat, soaking his hair and leaving the taste of salt on his tongue. A series of water droplets cling to the exposed skin of his neck, and he shivers slightly as they drip down his back in a trail of wetness. The water feels cold against his previously dry skin, and he shakes the droplets from his hair, feeling very much like a Captain Jack Sparrow as he steers his dingy of a vessel through the expanse of Ocean before him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">After many days of exploring, Scar was finally returning to the Monument, his pockets now fully stocked with resources, and having used a few bits of the wood he had gathered to construct a boat for the return journey. He supposed he could have swam instead, but truth be told, he was a little tired of the water. That, and the boat was honestly faster, and he had more than enough saplings to make up for the minuscule amount of wood he had used to craft the vessel.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The wind blows his hair out behind him, the sun shining brightly above in the clear sky’s of blue. The breeze feels warm against his skin as his body drys off, and he hums softly to himself, a mere means of entertainment, and he inhales the salty air of the sea into his lungs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He hoped Bdubs wouldn’t be too upset with him. Truth be told, he hadn’t meant for his trip to last so long. He had stayed on the mainland for a few days following discovery, taking the time to gather as much resources as he possibly could. He had chopped down enough oak trees to quell their need for wood, even managing to find a few birch and the odd spruce sapling along the way; they would at least provide a more substantial block pallet for use back at the Monument. His tools had already been upgraded to a set of stone, he’d found enough cows to provide at least a basic set of leather armour, and he’d gathered enough beef to satiate his hunger for the time being. He’d even managed to find enough sheep to provide the wool needed for an extra bed - he hoped Bdubs would at least be excited about that one.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">But all the same, he hoped Bdubs wouldn’t be too upset. He knew they had agreed that they needed resources, which was why he had made this little trip to begin with. They needed the wood so they could craft the tools so they could get other resources so that they could build. And resources he had indeed gotten.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">A week ago.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">He had found the land a solid two days after departure, then having spent the next few days thoroughly raiding it of its resources. Wood, seeds, flowers, sand. He’d even managed a block of legitimate grass after slaying an Enderman that was carrying the commodity during his second night on the mass of terrain. But after only a few days there, Scar had pretty much exhausted the place of its resources. He had gotten everything that he needed. And so </span> <span class="s1"> <em>why</em> </span> <span class="s2">, then had it taken him so long to return?</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">To put matters simply, he had gotten a little...sidetracked.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">Don’t get him wrong. He had really </span> <span class="s1"> <em>meant</em> </span> <span class="s2"> to be back sooner. In fact, he had set out on the third morning to make his way back to the Monument. But as he had casted out from shore, he discovered something in the depths of his pockets that he had long since forgotten about.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The buried treasure map.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He had completely forgotten about its existence, having pulled it from that sunken ship wreck what felt like so long ago now. But still, he had been hesitant. He hadn’t discussed this with Bdubs, and he knew that since he had gotten the achievements the man would be expecting him back. They needed wood. That was it. Wood and then home. That was their agreement. But still, he struggled to resist the urge.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">A struggle that had lasted for a solid two minutes of his life.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He was sure Bdubs was not going to be particularly happy. He was likely already upset at how long he had been away, and Scar imagined the mans anger was not likely to be quelled by the reasoning for his delayed return. Bdubs hadn’t wanted him to leave to begin with, he reminds himself, and he was sure the man was more than a little tired of drowning and fighting Guardians and being forced to build with his severe lack of resources.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Which might have been helped if you would have brought him the tools first...</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">Scar sighs internally, hoping against all odds that his companion would at least go a </span> <span class="s1"> <em>little</em> </span> <span class="s2"> bit easy on him.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">He approaches his destination, the Monument looming ahead as he steers the vessel towards the coordinates. But what he sees just about causes his jaw to hit the floor. Bdubs had been </span> <span class="s1"> <em>busy</em> </span> <span class="s2">. Gone was their original decrepit dirt shack of which they had spent their first night together so long ago. Instead, what now greeted him was four prismarine spires flanking the outlines of walls, their roofs baring the domed like framework of what he presumed was meant to be a glass roof that had yet to be filled in. From this angle, he can see the curved arches of at least three sets of doorways, two smaller on each of the two front spires, and a larger, grander style entrance directly in the middle. From each of these stemmed the pillar supports of a tunnel, which he again presumed were eventually meant to be filled with glass, with each entrance leading into the depths of what he would almost describe as a Victorian style greenhouse.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He steps out of his boat onto an empty sandstone platform, looking up at the structure with a sense of awe. He really shouldn’t have been surprised, given who had built it. Bdubs was an amazing builder, and he was the master of block pallets. He had ways of taking even the ugliest of materials and turning them into something beautiful, but considering what he had to work with, Scar was more than a little impressed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“<em>Scaaaaaaaaaaaaar</em>!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">A force plows into his back, causing him to stumble forwards several steps, but he keeps his balance. And then a set of arms is crushing him from behind.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Whoa! Bdubs!” His hand flies upwards to grasp at an arm that is now encircling his neck.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1"><em>You’re back!” </em>Bdubs exclaims, the man continuing to hug him from behind. <em>“</em></span> <span class="s2">You were gone for <em>so long!</em> It was so lonely out here! Never leave for that long ever again!”</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“Um...hi.” Scar blinks. This was certainly not the response he had been expecting. When he had gotten the achievements for wood halfway through his second day after departure, then having neglected to return for another week and a half, he had expected Bdubs to be </span> <span class="s1">furious</span> <span class="s2">. The man was not exactly known for his steady temper, and he had expected yelling at the very least, maybe the occasional threat, but to the contrary, Bdubs seemed almost </span> <span class="s1"> <em>happy</em> </span> <span class="s2"> to see him. Scar looks up at the building ahead. “You’ve certainly been busy.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Oh yeah yeah yeah! Very busy! Do you have a crafting table on you by any chance?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Uh, yeah I think.” Scar rummages in his pockets, producing the item in question from their depths and placing the table on the floor in front of him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Wonderful!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Scar is released in an instant as Bdubs immediately approaches the table, pulling several prismarine shards from his pockets and arranging them on the surface. Several seconds later the man takes a step back, now holding a handful of dark prismarine and grinning widely from ear to ear.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Yes! This is exactly what I need!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">And then he’s gone, taking off across the platform towards the structure in a flurry of bubbling excitement, leaving Scar to trail after him with a look of utter bewilderment.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>What just happened..?</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Scar follows after his retreating form, walking through the main tunnel entrance and peering around curiously as he steps into the room Bdubs had gone, the man now building furiously as he fills in holes in the floor and replaces dirt blocks with his new material.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Is this like, a throne room?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Yes! I worked very hard! I’m thinking of making a sort of glass circle on the floor there under the table, what do you think?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Scar blinks, glancing in the direction Bdubs had gestured, taking in the overall decor. “Umm, yeah. Glass floor there could be nice. And maybe a single ring of it around the outside edge? Add a bit of detail?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Oh yeah yeah yeah! I like that idea!” Bdubs moves to another wall. Scar blinks again. “Sooo, how was your trip? Did you find everything ok?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Scar shuffles nervously, watching curiously as the man worked as if expecting an outburst at any minute, but Bdubs merely continues to build away. Scar scratches the back of his head. “Umm...it was good, yeah. I got some saplings, some wood, some seeds, ya know...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“That’s good! Saplings are good! And we can use the seeds for crops!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Right...” Bdubs continues to build, standing on the seat of the throne as he adds the dark prismarine trim. “...Are you...good?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Me? Oh fine fine! I am fine! Do I not seem fine? Why wouldn’t I be fine?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Scar throws him a curious look. “...you sure?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Bdubs nods vigorously, merely continuing to build away. “Yes yes! Very sure!”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">Scar was not convinced. “...ok...if you’re sure...are </span> <span class="s1"> <em>we</em> </span> <span class="s2"> good?”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Bdubs cocks his head to the side, still not looking away from the task at hand. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Well, I was gone for a while, I just want to make sure that everything was still, ya know, <em>ok...</em>”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Oh yes! I am in the zone Scar! I’ve been waiting to get my hands on this dark prismarine here. It’s a good accent, don’t you think?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Scar was inclined to agree. Bdubs had certainly done an amazing job with such limited supplies, and considering what he would have had to go through to get them, Scar was more than a little impressed. “It is. And it makes the chairs look a lot more cushy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Bdubs smiles widely. “I know right? It’s going to be fantastic!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Scar sighs. So he wasn’t mad. That was certainly a relief. Maybe he wouldn’t be upset if he told him about his little detour after all. Bdubs places a final block before climbing back to the floor, taking a moment to admire his work before finally turning to his companion.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“Right, now that </span> <span class="s1"> <em>that’s</em> </span> <span class="s2"> finished-“</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Bdubs slaps him with a fish.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Scar blinks. “Wha-“</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“HOW DARE YOU LEAVE ME FOR SO LONG! YOU’VE BEEN GONE FOR ALMOST TWO WEEKS, AND YOU’VE BEEN OUT </span> <em> <span class="s1">TREASURE</span> <span class="s2"> HUNTING?!”</span> </em></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Scar winces. “Ahhh, there was an achievement for that, wasn’t there...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“YES YES THERE WAS!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“I’m sorry I’m sorry! I was on my way home and I just remembered the map and thought I would get it while I was already out! And look! I brought a Heart of the Sea! I thought we could use it to get a conduit, ya know so you stop drowning underwater and-and...stuff...” Scar shrinks in on himself, staring pointedly at the floor. Bdubs narrows his eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“Oh a </span> <span class="s1"> <em>conduit</em> </span> <span class="s2">, yes yes very useful very useful. You know when it would have been </span> <span class="s1"> <em>more</em> </span> <span class="s2"> useful? TWO WEEKS AGO WHEN I WAS FIGHTING THE ELDER GUARDIANS!”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“I’m sorry! I didn’t think it would take so long, I swear! I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Bdubs slaps him with a fish again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“NOT THAT BIG OF A DEAL?! YOU FOUND LAND WITHIN TWO DAYS AND THEN YOU DIDN’T COME BACK!” He thrusts the fish into his face, the commodity flopping helplessly as his arms flail wildly in gesture. “I’VE BEEN EATING RAW FISH AND DEALING WITH SCREAMING DEMONS AND FIGHTING GUARDIANS WITH MY FISTS FOR ALMOST TWO WEEKS!</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“...isn’t that a sword right there..?” Bdubs takes a step forward and Scar gulps.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">“THAT’S BESIDES THE POINT! I THOUGHT SOMETHING HAPPENED TO YOU! I THOUGHT THAT YOU GOT LOST OR TRAPPED OR FORGOT THE COORDINATES OR SOMETHING! YOU COULD HAVE </span> <span class="s1"> <em>CALLED</em> </span> <span class="s2"><em>!</em>”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“But...we don’t have chat communication...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“WELL YOU COULD HAVE AT LEAST COME BACK AND TOLD ME WHERE YOU WERE GOING! YOU TOLD ME TO BUILD A BASE, BUT WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WHEN I DON’T HAVE ANY TOOLS?!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Well...I mean...the base looks nice..?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“AND IT MIGHT HAVE LOOKED MORE COMPLETE IF SOMEONE WOULD HAVE COME BACK WHEN THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“But...but...conduit..”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Bdubs raises his hand in a claw like grasp and Scar takes several steps back, feeling a bead of sweat drip down his neck as he scampers to put some distance between himself and the approaching Bdubs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“YOU-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s2">“</span> <span class="s1">IBroughtYouABed?</span> <span class="s2">”</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">A hand lands on his shoulder. Scar blinks. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“-ARE MY FAVOURITE PERSON, HAVE I MENTIONED HOW MUCH I LOVE YOUR FACE?!”</span>
</p>
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